TBDH : Seven Deadly Sins - Christmas Edition
by Scioneeris
Summary: AU. Not TBDH Canon. Features very OOC Harry and Co. as they bumble their way up to Christmas. Overall theme is "7 Deadly Sins". Expect every type of fluff and angst. Some dragel family bonding, hurt/comfort and general silliness. HarryxBonded.
1. Gluttony, Part I

**Summary:**

Set in the There Be Dragons, Harry Universe, this snippet is meant to be a short fic of Harry and his various Bonded around Christmas time when he's just discovered that his pregnant. It's a background theme and the overall prompt is the seven deadly sings. It is NOT TBDH canon.

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 **Pairings:**

Harry Potter x Harry's Bonded

 **Disclaimer:**

I do not own any Harry Potter anything. That belongs to J.K. Rowling. I just like playing with Harry in my own little world of storyville. I make no money by writing this fanfiction. All original characters are my own.

 **Rating:**

T/M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16.

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 **WARNINGS:**.Smexy Hints. Slash. Angst. Family. OC's. OOCness. TBDH Universe. AU. Other warnings will be added as I see fit.

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 _ **A/N:** This is a Christmas Ficlet for this year, following the prompt of the Seven Deadly Sins, because i've had some ideas I needed to write out for the time being, while I worked on fleshing out some of the other plot points. Enjoy! Each "sin" may be more than one chapter long and they are loosely based over the time of Harry's "Pregnancy" from the Jun ficlet. It is so OOC I almost didn't want to post it. -facepalm-. And it's definitely got American spelling/expressions in it. Ergh. Please bear with it! _

_Thanks for reading and your continued support of this dragel-fandom-love-fest ~Scion_

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GLUTTONY

As far as Harry is concerned, his Merrow is the most prideful—and not on account of overcompensation. There's very little that his Merrow lacks, be it magic, beauty and brains. Of course, his manners leave something to be desired, but Harry cannot exactly fault him for this.

Not when he's eternally grateful for the moments when his prickly-water-bonded will let his temper get the better of him.

It's when they're walking into the Annual Christmas Ball, hosted by the Cairothes (and really, Harry has _got_ to get used to their family…), that the first prickle of unease filters through.

His empathy is dulled, thanks to a very welcome spell from Theo, because overstimulation from a gift he can't turn off, makes socializing awkward and draining. Harry has learned that Theo's offer during these sorts of occasions are meant as a gesture of affection and protection.

He doesn't want Harry to be too keyed up to enjoy the fun of being out and about, along with their Bonded in tow. Theo also can't help his Alpha instincts that urge him to look out for Harry, no matter what the upcoming event may be.

Still, Harry has learned to borrow some of Theo's calmness and so when this first annoying little prickle registers, he stifles a groan and tries to push it away. He wants to enjoy the party, there are so many friends here tonight.

And there's cake.

The Kalzik Twins, Farnati and Karnati, are turning out to be quite the talented bakers and this particular holiday confectionary explosion is their personal handiwork. Harry knows he can sample everything without overindulging, because in true Kalzik fashion, he's sure he doesn't want to know just how healthy the deceptively sugary items are. He's fairly certain their all well balanced and packed with specific nutrients and proteins.

It makes him smile as he starts for the buffet table, studiously ignoring one Yanek Doursen and his pathetic glower.

His shoulders twitch, because he can feel the true depth of emotion behind such glares and while the effect is dimmed, thanks to his tempered empathy, it is still irritating.

Like, _really_ irritating.

Harry huffs, throwing a glance to the side and pick out where Theo has vanished to. Flaunting Theo isn't exactly a hardship, but Harry prefers to do it for the right reasons.

Mostly the right reasons.

Most of the time, anyway.

But of course, once they've entered, his Bonded have mysteriously vanished to pay their usual respects to extended family or check in on their old friends.

Not that he would be grudge them, but still—a brush of coolness flutters at his elbow and Harry turns in time to see the sour expression on his Merrow's face.

He bites back a smile and leans slightly to the left, nudging with one elbow to suggest that he does want the hint of closeness offered.

It takes a single second before the Merrow wraps a hand around Harry's arm, tucking his hand into the crook of Harry's elbow.

The gesture, no matter how small, serves to make the sour scowl more of a grimace.

Harry really wants to smile now, but it would kind of ruin the moment. Instead, he bumps against said Merrow once more on the way to the buffet table.

They join the line at the far end and it moves rather quickly. Harry picks the biggest plate they have, his movements somewhat hampered by said Merrow clinging to his arm, but he can't really complain.

Not since he can hear the whispers floating around them.

"…Aww—so cute! Look at them!"

"That's sickeningly adorable."

"Look at that blue hair!"

"How lucky—a Merrow."

"Do Merrow actually eat sweets?"

"So lucky—I wish I had me one of _those_."

If said Merrow notices them, he gives no actual response. Harry opts to make him hold the plate then, so he can pick what he wants—since his other hand is obviously occupied anyway.

"Why do I have to hold it?" comes the expected grumble, but the plate's already been taken and expertly balanced.

"Because you're taller," Harry says, uncaring as to whether it's an actual reason or not. He's learned to ignore the first thing that tends to come from his Merrow's lips, because it's usually a complaint.

Followed immediately by the actual thing said Merrow wants to say.

"You're not going to sample all of these, are you?"

Harry doesn't answer. He feels the slight puff of air on the side of his head, follow by the quietest of groans.

"Of course you are." The Merrow says. "Of course you are…"

Harry lets himself smile this time as they make their way down the table. The plate is held perfectly still and Harry happily loads it up with every single tasty morsel he can pack onto it.

He pretends not to notice when a flicker of magic charms the plate, so nothing can fall off of it.

They return to the table, where the towering plate is carefully eased onto the place setting. Harry drops into his seat with an audible purr, because really, he's been working very hard, thank you very much and this is a good reward.

"Wouldn't you rather mingle first?" The Merrow asks, a look of slight apprehension at the massive plate of sweets and Harry's too-delighted expression. "If you intend to eat yourself into a sugary stupor, then at least-"

"I haven't eaten any sweets since Quinn's strike," Harry reminds him.

The Merrow cringes, because that's one occasion they are _not_ talking about—and Theo is _still_ holding over them. Never mind that he actually didn't have anything to do with that—but blowing up the kitchen is a pretty bad end result over all.

Alright, fine. A _really_ bad end result.

"There's still the entire Gorgens Clan over by the fountain and they always leave early-"

"Later," Harry says, dismissively.

"But you haven't even greeted the Cairothes!"

Harry doesn't answer. He's too busy chewing the spongy orange square with sweet fluff on top. He isn't sure what it's called, but it tastes like the sweetest orange in the world collided with the perfect marshmallow and decided to shrink until they could fit in his mouth.

"…Arry—Harry! Are you even listening to me?"

"Yep. Greeting people," Harry mumbles, mouth full. He ignores the expected look of disgust for his lack of table manners—but really, he's been good!

Too good.

A few sweets never hurt.

Harry eyes the small mountain.

Alright, fine. A decent amount of sweets won't hurt—much.

"If you give yourself a sugar high-"

"I won't!"

"-Don't come running to me."

"I wouldn't!" Harry says, before he can stop himself. He realizes the moment he's said the wrong thing, because he can't take it back and the temperature around him drops by several very noticeable degrees.

"…I see." The Merrow says, stiffly.

Harry swallows hurriedly, nearly choking on the nutty nougat he'd just sampled. "T-that's not what I meant. I just—can't you—they're mine!" He wraps a protective arm around the plate.

The Merrow gives him a withering glance. "I. Don't. Want. Them."

"Good. More for me." Harry says, happily. He scarfs down another handful of sugared jelly-tuffles.

There's a quiet huff, before the Merrow turns away. "I'll be paying our respects," he says, haughtily.

Harry is too busy to notice the plural.

* * *

 **This is NOT TBDH-canon. Like most of my prompts, this was written in a single draft writing session and has not been extensively proofed. SIGH. Apologies! I know Harry's really, really OOC in the upcoming chapters, but please enjoy it anyway! I love writing him in so many different ways. and yes, present tense is easier for me to write at the moment... THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	2. Gluttony, Part II

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 _ **PREVIOUSLY:**_

 _"Good. More for me." Harry says, happily. He scarfs down another handful of sugared jelly-tuffles._

 _There's a quiet huff, before the Merrow turns away. "I'll be paying our respects," he says, haughtily._

 _Harry is too busy to notice the plural._

* * *

It's going wonderfully, as far as Harry is concerned. He can feel his magic happily singing at the sugar—and knows that he'll have to take some blood later, to even it out.

But everything is so tasty right now, he's hard pressed to focus on anything else. The twins really can bake and he hopes they will pursue their baking talents along with their Healer statuses.

Theo is across the room, with Charlie—talking animatedly to Ilsa's father. The twins are with Ethan, visiting with Jun and her Circle somewhere off to the side.

It's a good gathering and Harry is happy seeing that they are all well. Quinn is likely off getting smothered by his parental trio and the rest of his Bonded have disappeared into the crowd.

But he can feel their happy threads thrumming every so often through their shared bonds. They are all content and that's what makes it worth it.

Harry's purr turns to a squeak when two strong hands slide under his armpits and hoist him up.

His protesting exclamation is promptly swallowed by a kiss, as the Merrow takes his seat, then settles—rearranging them so Harry is now perched on his lap—straddling him.

Warmth travels all the way to the tips of his ears and Harry knows he's blushing as red as Weasley hair. His hands scrabble to steady himself, one on the table, the other braced against the intricate fastenings on the front of the Merrow's dress robe.

"Time's up," The Merrow announces. "I waited as long as I could, so you'd best be ready."

Wide emerald eyes stare up in absolute confusion. Harry hopes his hands aren't too sticky, because he has the sudden urge to touch the smooth, scaled face angled toward him and sticky fingers would not help his case right now.

The words register and predictably, his brow furrows. "Time-?" he falters.

"Which one?" the Merrow asks, but his eyes are already surveying the tower of sweets. Explanations will have to wait, because he is not in the mood.

"The pink-" Harry begins, a tad unsure.

"Blue," comes the contrary answer. "Open."

Harry rolls his eyes, but obediently opens his mouth as the Merrow plucks the blue-and-white truffle from the partially filled plate.

A cautious sniff—lick—and a teeny bite, is what the truffle is subjected to, before the Merrow will hold it in his mouth, leaning forward to offer it to Harry.

Harry leans forward, accepting the small treat—and the kiss that accompanies it.

Somewhat awkward, but still sweet, Harry pulls away to savor it. His cheeks are warm and he kind of hopes no one is looking in their direction, because this moment should be for them.

The truffle dissolves in his mouth and it's liquid paradise sliding down his throat. He likes it, he decides—and the dusting of powdered sugar all over his Merrow's lips.

Oh yes. Definitely likes that.

So Harry gifts him another kiss that ends too soon—returning for a taste of the creamy coconut sugar-frosted delight.

They break apart in time for Harry to blindly reach for the plate. His fingers close over soft squishiness, but his frosting-covered hand is caught before it can even make a halfway trip to said Merrow.

Still blushing up to his ears—and unbelievably pleased with himself in the process—Harry bites his lip and watches the Merrow delicately lick his partially frosted hand clean.

"How about one at a time?" the Merrow suggests—far too innocently.

Over the Merrow's shoulder, a still glowering Yanek is decidedly red-faced and fuming.

Harry doesn't care. He's too busy to notice such insignificant details.

He sneaks a glance to the side—to make sure he properly grabs one of the desserts.

It is shared between them in bites and kisses, somehow—managing to remain just barely decent enough for public company.

Then again, the shiver of magic of twining around him, feels like a privacy spell. Harry is now sure that their little moment is properly obscured from unwanted eyes, as the Merrow has already undone his collar.

"How about later?" Harry says, breathless.

There's a glimmer of absolute want that flickers through those gorgeous blue eyes, before Harry finds himself tipping forward, unable to brace properly against the cool arms wrapped around him.

"How about now?" The Merrow counters.

Harry leans down, forehead touching the cool, scaled cheek closest to him. He knows the question behind this question and he would like to say yes. The night is still young after all—but there's a whole plate of sweets and he really does want them.

"One more?" he tries.

"No," the Merrow croons, stealing another kiss. "That's not enough for one more."

The slow building warmth in his body is building into a steady flush and soon, it'll be too much. But for now, Harry doesn't care , because the slice of perfection before him is too good to pass up.

Harry purrs into the next kiss. His gasp is swallowed as the Merrow teasingly dances one hand along his thigh, curving up to rest on his waist.

"Now?"

"Mm—no."

It's four kisses, one delightful shudder—and the cool, scaled thumb smoothing over his cheek, before Harry earns his next treat. It's a cookie with sweet cream and colored sugar sprinkled over the top.

The heavy-lidded gaze fixed on him makes the simple experience much more than it ought to be. And he really shouldn't nibble at it, but he has a feeling this was an easy treat.

The next one will probably require far more intimate attentions than a few mere kisses, if he knows his Merrow.

And he does know his Merrow.

This is, however, one of those times that Harry is grateful for magic—and the privacy it affords them. They'll be alright.

He's innocently eating a cookie—but apparently doing a terrible job of it, if the Merrow's burning gaze is to be believed.

As he swallows the last bite, Harry has a feeling this entire evening will be pure torture. Now he understands the time reference.

There will be no more time of leisurely dessert sampling. He knows how patient his Merrow can be. Knows that said Merrow is not above waiting out the entire evening—just to make him squirm—and then some.

Before he can check his theory in any real physical way, the hands gripping his hips, hold him in place, keeping him from any inappropriate wriggling.

Harry whines—softly. He is right after all and this kind of thing is _not_ fun at all. Not for him—at least not yet.

The Merrow laughs, darkly. He selects a skewer of chocolate drizzled fruit chunks and gently taps it against Harry's mouth, teasing those sugar-coated lips.

Harry opens his mouth, eyes closing as his body betrays him with another shudder. The fruit is tart and the chocolate is sweet. It's a perfect combination of flavor and texture—not to mention the treat is cold and Harry feels like he's on fire.

But he can feel those cool hands dancing along his sides and his empathy is merrily singing away. He swallows the mouthful in time for the Merrow to feast on him—feeling thoroughly claimed at the skill behind those devious lips.

He's giving up, right then and there, because there really is no point in fighting it now. The rest of the dessert table will have to wait, whether he wants it to or not.

Because each bite leads to this and it's going to take a while.

Not that he plans to complain.

Not in the least.

He'll have his dessert and his Merrow too..

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 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon. This one was fluffy because, "reasons" the next one is "PRIDE" and it's Angsty as all else. I just can't seem to help msyelf. Harry says thank you for the reviews on the last chapter. The Merrow wishes for you to know that he doesn't care whether you review or not. :P**

 **LOL. I**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	3. Pride, Part I

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 ** _Context : After ol' Voldysnort is taken care of, occasionally the other Nevermore realms have a squabble or two. Sometimes, Nevareans have to fight and prominent Circles will join in a Common War Council of sorts, hashing out plans and resources that they are willing to try or agree with. The suggestions and approved actions are then escalated all the way up to the Royals' and handled accordingly. This snippet features Harry trying his 'saving people' thing again..._**

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PRIDE

It leaves him standing in the shadows, clinging to the curtains that fall from the tall, draped pillars lining the walkway. The coldness of the wintry air saps all the warmth and strength from his body as he stands, face upturned to the night sky.

The plans are still moving forward. Everyone is gathered and one of the Kadels has taken over in presenting a possible strategy.

It might help them. A band-aid atop another spurting wound in this pointless conflict between the Nevermore realms. It's the kind of battle that can't be fought rationally.

Or something like that.

No one's really noticed that Harry's excused himself—if slipping out of the war council's main room can even be classified as that. He doesn't care if they do.

Because he knows better.

Knew better.

Definitely something like that.

But he thought—he thought that—

When he presented his idea, it wasn't that he expected them to take it and run with it. He just would have preferred some feedback or a suggestion or even a chance to explain his reasoning.

Except that he never had that chance.

The laughter should have been the worst, but the look of quiet disappointment on Quinn's face is what actually does him in.

He's done it after all.

Let his mouth get the better of him, talking as if he understood what was going on and now—the gentle touch on his shoulder, makes him jump.

It's Quinn.

He climbs down the stairs and settles in beside Harry, close enough for his warmth to spill over, but still carefully partitioned in his mind, so that Harry's empathy can't pinpoint it.

"Come to gloat then?" Harry says, bitterly. And those aren't the words he should say, but he can't help it. The last Bonded he wants to see right now, is Quinn. The only one who told him outright that he ought to check himself before putting them all in their current position.

The others hesitated and suggested waiting until Theo's return. Advice that is logical, but somehow unhelpful now that it's turned into a muddle.

Quinn, of course, doesn't answer. Not aloud, anyway. He only sighs and folds his hands over his knees. His expression is one of extreme patience.

"It could've worked!" Harry mutters. He wraps his arms around his knees, drawing them up to his chest. He's curling in on himself and doesn't care. Because it could've worked.

Maybe.

He hasn't felt this alone in a while, but he hasn't started blocking yet. It takes a breath to start—and gradually the warmth and connection bleeds away, ceasing to register at all.

 _Harry…_ Quinn's prompt is gentle in his mind.

"I tried. I honestly made a good effort and this is what it turns into."

 _It was a flawed plan, Harry and you knew it need a bit more thought._

"Apparently I didn't, or else it would've worked!"

 _There was too much to lose!_

"It was a necessary risk!" Harry throws back. Because he's done the calculations and that was the only answer. The only answer he could bare to give. The other options were too terrible to consider and this is not what he wants.

Quinn looks away for a moment. _Lives are not necessary risks. It doesn't matter if they are willing or not. You can't ask someone to sacrifice what-_

"I didn't ask." Harry ground out. "I wouldn't! I just said they could volunteer and—"

 _Harry—listen to yourself—_

"Was it so wrong to want to try and save them? Why am I the only one who ever thinks this far? How come no one else cares? It's fine to complain about circumstances, but when someone tries to change it, we just tear it apart and knock them down!"

 _That's not what happened._

"I was there. That is what happened."

 _Would you stop and listen to yourself?_

 _"_ I am listening."

 _There's listening and then there's what you're doing right now. Look, I know this is not—the way you wanted this to turn out, but it is possible that—_

 _"_ I don't need a consolation prize."

Quinn stops, looking bewildered and uncertain in the same instance. _Harry, I'm not trying to pick a fight with you and I am most certainly not a…a consolation prize! I just thought-_

"Just go ahead and say that you were right!" Harry rages. The words are still spilling out and he can't stop them yet, because it _hurts_.

Failure hurts. Failing scars. And yet, somehow, this feels worse than usual.

His empathy begins to shift and Harry suppresses a shudder. He needs to lock it down. Needs to pull it back inside himself. Won't be able to function properly unless he does.

He hates doing it. Doesn't know if he'll manage it in time, but it hurts.

Quinn is properly shocked now. Teal eyes are wide and glimmering, lips parted in complete dismay.

 _No—no—never! Harry—please._

Hurt simmers beneath the surface, but Harry doesn't care yet. The first strands of emotion tangle up inside of each other. He thinks it wouldn't have mattered if Theo was there.

His Theo is brilliant, but Harry's learned from him. He's watched and studied. He's seen Theo make hard decisions and come up with a suitable solution that satisfies most parties.

This should have worked! He's put plenty of time, effort and even a bit of blood into it. So now, he's feeling rather sorry for himself, because he did try.

And in the end, it was for nothing. This is why he should leave things alone. This is why Theo has always been better at scheming. This is why he will never push himself like this again.

Why bother—if this is the end result?

For a long moment, silence stretches out between them.

"Just leave me alone." The words are meant to sting and from the way Quinn's hands clench, Harry knows that they do.

But it's too late to take anything back.

And he doesn't really want to.

Not now.

* * *

 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon. This one was angsty becasue I couldn't help myself. It doesn't need a tissue warning or anything tho, unless you're like me and it's just like-nooooo, don't fight! Don't! :P** **I just sort of saw this image of a very sad Harry outside of the massive War Council building in Nevarah and this prompt came prancing out of my imagination. So, I had to backtrack a bit and write this out. Harry is very happy for the reviews from the last chapter. Quinn would like to point out that he doesn't fight with Harry. :P**

 **Y'all are sweet. I hope your holiday cheer is keeping you happy~! :)**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	4. Pride, Part II

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 ** _Context : After ol' Voldysnort is taken care of, occasionally the other Nevermore realms have a squabble or two. Sometimes, Nevareans have to fight and prominent Circles will join in a Common War Council of sorts, hashing out plans and resources that they are willing to try or agree with. The suggestions and approved actions are then escalated all the way up to the Royals' and handled accordingly. This snippet features Harry trying his 'saving people' thing again..._**

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PRIDE II

It's four days before Harry realizes that Quinn hasn't spoken to him.

Granted, his Bonded are usually chattering so much, it's kind of hard to keep track of all of them.

And he still hasn't opened the bonds back.

He can't.

Not yet.

His Bonded rally around him, showing that they still care and being appropriately considerate in the wake of losing face so publicly.

It still bothers him. Burning and twisting inside, because he'd meant it for all the right reasons and somehow, it'd gone terribly wrong.

"Harry?" Theo stands in the doorway, looking adorably irritated—one of his best contradicting expressions. He's returned, but he isn't staying long. There's too much to be done."I have to take care of some things—I'm taking the twins with me and probably Hadrian, if he's back."

"What's wrong?" Harry asks, because he has to. Because Theo won't tell him unless he wants to know—and sometimes, he doesn't.

"There's some trouble in Mount Valeraine—Ebony has asked us to come."

"You should take Charlie," Harry begins. He tries and fails to remember if he's seen his Beta in the past hour or so.

"He's already there," Theo says. "Ethan," there's a slight sharpness to his tone, but the Pareya only nods. He knows what Theo wants to say and gives his word, easily.

Hadrian picks that moment to shuffle in, fresh from the bath, a towel slung low around his hips and another draped around his neck. His dragel tattoos are swirling and moving, as if agitated by some unseen force. He doesn't look the least bit rested, in spite of a healing sleep of over twenty-two hours.

"Hadrian," Theo's voice is a near growl, but his eyes are rapidly shifting from pure gold to pitch black. "We need to leave now."

Their ACE looks up, a weary gaze on his shadowed face. He knows what Theo is asking of him—also, unspoken. Thin lips twitch, as if almost to give a wry smile. The prospect of physical engagement is very likely. At least it will help to wake up his body.

Harry's muffled sound in his throat, draws their attention anyway. His face says it all, he's sure, but there is a smidgen of understanding reflected in Theo's golden eyes.

"We'll be back as soon as we can possibly manage it," Hadrian murmurs. He draws closer to Harry. His clothes and armor pour onto him, with a shimmer of magic, as his weapons materialize on his person. Shadows ruffle and fade around him. They are answering a call that is as old as time itself.

Harry slumps. The feeling of being left behind is not one that he likes, but he also knows that he will not be helpful if he accompanies them.

At least, not right now.

Whatever Theo has in mind, he doesn't have time to explain. If Charlie's already gone, then it must be serious. Especially if the Twins are joining them.

Granted, George's rare fire gift is one that ought to be used with extreme caution, but Fred's gift nullifies it and they'd be useful, Harry thinks. But deadly. Maybe that's what's needed.

But then Hadrian is there in front of him and he's talking, so Harry tries to pull himself back to the present. He doesn't want to miss anything, even though he knows he will miss them.

"Open one of them, at least," Hadrian whispers, pulling him into his arms—because he is closer than Theo. "Open Theo's." He breathes against Harry's right ear.

Harry makes a sound of disagreement, to which Hadrian bites his ear, sharply.

The reprimand is clear.

Harry has kept those bonds sealed. Has tried and failed to deal with the maelstrom of emotions that accompanied his 'failure' at the summit, but for now, perhaps he can do as Hadrian asks.

Maybe.

It'll hurt to open it and he's been on his own these past four days and it's been terrible. Still, he can't bring himself to—and ow!

Hadrian's bite is sharper this time. His fangs linger a fraction of a second later, to make his point.

This time, Harry can't shrug that off.

A second later, he can feel Theo's starting magic as his Alpha begins to anchor a long-distance portal.

Hadrian laves the bites with his tongue, sucking lightly on the spot. His hands, though large, are warm and firm, holding Harry to him.

Harry squirms, unwilling to be held, but not wanting to open those bonds yet. He has a feeling Hadrian won't let him go until he does. They need cheerfulness, clarity and hope—emotions that he's in no state to channel to them.

"Harry." Hadrian whispers, shifting his attentions to the other ear.

Harry braces himself for the bite that doesn't come. When the arms fall away, he stares up into dark eyes that are filled with so much compassion.

It makes his heart stutter a beat.

"Be safe," Hadrian says, simply. "Listen to Ethan." He presses dry lips to Harry's forehead, before he turns away—allowing himself to be caught with an arm around the waist, as Ethan steps forward for his own farewell greeting.

"Take care of yourself," Ethan growls, teasingly. His clawed hands dig into Hadrian's armored limbs for a hug that is well-received. "Happy hunting, you big hulk."

Hadrian smirks.

They kiss then, half-teeth and half-fang.

"I'll call as soon as I can," Hadrian murmurs. "Keep the escape medallions prepped."

Ethan nods, reaching up to tug on Hadrian's still damp hair. A flicker of a spell at his fingertips, has it dried and set in Hadrian's preferred style.

Hadrian captures the inquisitive hand and gifts it with a playful nibble—before drawing Ethan back for another kiss. When they part, Ethan's eyes are blazing gold and Hadrian's are pitch black.

He's growing darker with each step he takes away and by the time he reaches Theo, their expressions are nearly identical.

Harry shivers. He doesn't need his empathy to know that someone is going to pay for something today. He musters up a single half-smile as the portal springs to life and swallows them whole.

And then it is quiet and empty again.

Too quiet.

Too empty.

* * *

 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon. Mount Valeraine is that fire place that Ilsa asks Harry about, that day when they are about to enter the Hunt. :P Chapters are approximately 1000~ish words and yes, prompts will vary in length. This one is probably about four parts? It depends on how much I fiddle with it tomorrow.** **Did ya like the lil snippet of Ethan? It's just a small glimpse, but this is his first "official" snippet. :)**

 **Harry is delighted with the reviews and hugs from the last chapter. Quinn is relieved that you don't think too badly of him. :P**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	5. Pride, Part III

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 ** _Context : After ol' Voldysnort is taken care of, occasionally the other Nevermore realms have a squabble or two. Sometimes, Nevareans have to fight and prominent Circles will join in a Common War Council of sorts, hashing out plans and resources that they are willing to try or agree with. The suggestions and approved actions are then escalated all the way up to the Royals' and handled accordingly. This snippet features Harry trying his 'saving people' thing again..._**

* * *

PRIDE III

When the doorbell rings, Ethan calls for Harry to answer it. He's headed to the laundry room, a giant basket of dirty clothes expertly balanced on one hip.

Morose, Harry reluctantly slides off of the settee and makes his way to the front door. He checks the ward-glass on his way there, and its glowing green, which means the guest on the other side, means no harm and is a friend of the Circle.

He opens the door and is completely shocked by the tall man standing on the other side. "O-oret-!" the title falls from his lips before he can help it. This is the one person he desperately needs to see and hadn't thought he could bother. "How did you—I thought you were at the memorial for-!"

"Theo sent me." Maury says, simply. "I expected you to call before he did."

"I-I didn't want to bother you."

"You are never, ever a bother—little one," Maury's smile is warm and kind. "How about a walk?"

"Now?"

"Boots and coat?" Maury counters.

Harry swallows. He wants to. He really wants to and at the same time, he can't organize the jumble of words in his head into some kind of coherence. He doesn't want to start babbling—or worse— _bawling_ when he tries to speak to his mentor.

"Harry—breathe." Maury murmurs. And then his cold hands are cupping Harry's face and smoothing over his cheeks—warm, steady magic spilling over from the simple touch.

Harry nods. He magics his winter boots and overcoat to him, pulling away to struggle into them. It takes a half minute before he's stumbling out the door and straight into Maury's arms.

The hug lasts at least a full minute.

"Want to talk about it?" Maury asks, gently.

Harry presses his lips together. He kind of wants to and at the same time, he's not sure he can bear it—yet. Needs to. Ought to. Probably will.

But not yet.

His mentor understands—as he always has. Instead, he drapes an arm around Harry's shoulder and guides him forward. They walk in silence, circling around the massive, crumbling estate and towards the back, where the old gardens once were.

Everything is half-overgrown, tangled up by weeds and brambles, but the stone paths and thinned hedges still remain. Maury bypasses the maze and angles towards the hidden orchard towards the rear of the grounds.

"I—I-" Harry tries. His hands clench and his magic strains inside of him. He's kept it bottled up for too long and there will be a price to pay for that, he's sure.

"Come," Maury pulls him along, pausing when they are closer to the orchard. The moment they enter the orchard, a magical ward springs to life, blanketing them—and the trees inside—to maintain the proper optimal conditions for their fruit.

There's two levels. It's a massive rectangle that stretches out almost as far as the eye can see. The actual trees are set down in a near protected hollow, there's three small sets of stone carved stairs on the three sides of the orchard that Harry can properly set. The first level leads all the way around the orchard, but the second level is all for the orchard.

The stairs open out into rich green grass, and the nicely mulched rows of peach trees. A white marbled stone walkway leads down through the center of the orchard, providing a clear walking space.

Harry finds himself staring at rows and rows of ripe peaches dangling from perfectly pruned and tended peach trees. The air is thick and heavy with the scent of ripe fruit.

Confusion overtakes his previous emotional state and he can only stare in fascination until Maury clears his throat.

"Have you never come this far out?"

Harry shakes his head. "I knew there were a lot of things on the property when we purchased it, but—I didn't really—there wasn't time," he faltered. It's only been a couple of weeks since they've moved in and there's so much that he's tried to keep up with.

Purchasing their current home, a massive, crumbling estate, had been one of the most important things he could note as a major life decision without some threatening prophecy hanging over his head. It felt like a step into adulthood—like paying taxes for the first time.

The conflicting emotions well up once more and Harry's knees wobble.

Maury sighs, but it's a light sound as if he's holding his words for the right time. Instead, he leads Harry over to one of the stone benches that border the top level of the orchard.

Harry sits without being prompted. "I-I didn't realize that—it's huge."

"It was quite an estate in its prime," Maury agrees. "In fact, they had quite a few gardens. If I remember correctly, their Circle was rather large."

"How could they leave it?"

"For something better," Maury says, easily. "It's a matter of opinion and perspective. This might seem wonderful to you, because it is—in your eyes. To them, though it held fond memories and whatnot, they were pleased to move on to something else."

Harry nods, thanking his lucky stars for once gifting him something good in his life, his Bonded not counted. It wasn't luck that gave him such men, but something much more real.

"The peaches look ready to fall."

"We've probably interrupted a stasis spell," Maury hums. "It was likely meant to hold until new owners crossed over the entrance."

"Oh." Harry glances back up at the entrance, brow furrowed. "…That's a lot of peaches."

"Mmhm."

"…Can we recast the stasis?"

"Why?"

Harry stares at him. "I don't know what to do with all of them! That's too much!"

"You could always give some away," Maury says, calmly. "I'm sure fresh fruit is still an acceptable gift between Circles and these look like pink peaches, I would imagine anyone would be pleased."

"I don't know that many people!"

"Circles," Maury corrects, fondly. "And you know more than you think. You are, however, avoiding the simplest way around this. Care to tell me why?"

Harry's mouth snaps shut so hard, his fangs click. For a long moment, he holds his silence. Because he is avoiding it. No matter how he wants to look at this, he is.

"Harry?" Maury prompts.

"…Quinn's mad at me." Harry draws his knees up to his chest, folding his arms over the tops. "So I can't ask him to do anything with the peaches." .

* * *

 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon. How do you like Maury? Since this is not canon, we can throw him on into the mix. :P** **Sorry for the delay with this chapter. We had our annual inventory at work yesterday and I was part of the group that got roped into working early and staying late. I have slept for approx 90% of today. -yawn-**

 **Harry is delighted with the extra hugs from the last chapter and would like to hug you back. Ethan is blushing from his debut snippet chapter. :P**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	6. Pride, Part IV

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 ** _Context : After ol' Voldysnort is taken care of, occasionally the other Nevermore realms have a squabble or two. Sometimes, Nevareans have to fight and prominent Circles will join in a Common War Council of sorts, hashing out plans and resources that they are willing to try or agree with. The suggestions and approved actions are then escalated all the way up to the Royals' and handled accordingly. This snippet features Harry trying his 'saving people' thing again..._**

* * *

PRIDE IV

"Tell me what happened," Maury says, simply.

And it's that single phrase that has the entire story tumbling out. When he finishes, Harry is gasping and his magic is stinging along his arms and legs, as he tries to gather himself together.

Silence stretches out and when Harry dares to glance to the side at his mentor, he barely glimpses a flutter of thick, dark fabric before the edge of his mentor's winter cloak is flung over his shoulders, settling around him with a blanket of warmth.

The gesture sparks a renewed feeling of hope inside of his chest, burning, faintly, as it struggles to the surface. He's been trying so hard not to feel anything for the past few days and now, it seems like he'll be feeling too much—too quickly.

"That's quite an experience," Maury says, at last. "When I told you I'd be back, I didn't mean for you to keep everything to yourself until my return."

Harry ducks his head. "I-I didn't want to disturb you."

"You are never a disturbance," comes the firm reply. "I can visit their memorial any old time and-"

"But it was the anniversary of-!"

"They certainly wouldn't hold it against me." Maury says, tartly. "Harry, if Theo is the one to call me, doesn't that suggest that it's a bit late?"

Harry manages a shaky smile. "I'm glad you came."

"As am I." Maury says, simply. "Now, let's see if we can sort this out, hm? We have missing Theo. Speaking up at the Common War Council. A fight with Quinn. Complications on Mount Valeraine. Your Empathy." Maury ticks them off one at a time. "Have I missed anything?"

Harry burrows closer to his side, taking advantage of the closeness offered with the winter cloak. "That's about it," he says, softly. Lined up like that, it seems like a neater sort of mess.

And maybe not so unmanageable?

"Firstly," Maury taps Harry's nose to gain his attention. "When we are missing Theo, we spend time with Theo when he returns, alright?"

Harry's brow furrows, predictably. "But I did!"

"More than usual?" Maury counters, knowingly.

Harry slumps. "Not—quite. I mean, I was glad to see him. He was glad to see me, but things were kind of busy."

"Empath," Maury reminds him. "Skin-to-skin contact. You will always want to be near him and closer to him than the rest. The longer the separation the more time you will need to spend together. You probably haven't realized this yet, have you?"

"But the soul-bond was fine!" Harry protests. He'd checked after all and every thing had been fine.

"And you are trusting a soul-bond or your heart?" Maury asks.

Harry pulls the winter cloak a little together around his shoulder. "…It's hard." He admits, at last. "I mean, I know—Theo's always busy. Always and I just—I feel—in the way."

"Have you told him that?"

"What? No! I'd—I'd sound like a—I mean, I-I could, but he has so much going on and I-"

"Neglecting your own needs for the sake of sparing your Alpha is not an option," Maury drawls. "It usually compounds the issue."

"I wasn't-!"

"Harry, when a Circle like yours, bonds so deeply to the point where you have to learn muting spells to handle excess stimuli, you can rest assured that your entire Circle knows how you feel."

Harry turns red at once.

"It's practically double for your Alpha. You can shield them all you like, but as an empath, it hurts you just as much as it hurts them when you lock each other out. Mostly because they feel that you don't trust them and you feel that you don't want to burden them. The result is distance and confusion, because they cannot support you—especially when you're trying so hard to stand strong on your own."

"But they're always there for me," Harry explains. "They're always doing so much and I do so little for them. I'm just—there, most days. I don't even—I barely do the chores and I feel so useless-!"

"You don't have to earn their love, Harry." Maury says, gently. "They give it to you because they want to. They love you, faults and all."

The words stab a lot closer to his heart than he wants them to. Harry's eyes squeeze shut and he shivers, even though he is mostly warm. Old patterns and bad habits are so hard to break. And ugly feelings still linger in the wake of old fears.

"But I want to help!"

"Then help in the ways that you can. Sometimes the ways we help people are not always in the big things and the most obvious paths. It's the smaller gestures and the quiet moments that are almost never seen." Maury smiles. "And I know you are very good at that. You are always watching them, taking the time to give them individual attention and making sure that you all learn to grow together."

Harry's teary smile is tentatively hopeful. "Really?"

"Really. So, back to the issue. What you will need, is more time with Theo," Maury instructs. "Even if you lie in bed all day, make sure you're both stripped down to your birthday suit—he can work on things that don't require him to be up and about." His lips twitched, faintly. "Only, of course—if you're actually just resting."

Harry buried his face in his hands. His flaming red ears were still visible.

Maury chuckled. "Skin-to-skin," he reminds. "You can also use an elemental grounding, like I've shown you before. Digging a hole in purified dirt and sitting in there until your excess energy has somewhere else to go. Since it requires a great deal of concentration, I'd prefer it if you went to Theo instead of digging holes in the front of your estate yard."

"What if I practice?"

"If you practice, then I suppose it's fine—but Theo should still be your first option. One, his element is Earth—it will forever be one of your grounding points. That's simply what that element is all about. Second, he's your Alpha. He wants to be needed by you and I would bet he hovers a great deal over you whenever he returns—unless you shoo him away."

Harry huffs. He can't answer that, because it's exactly what he did when Theo returned. He was still mentally driving himself crazy over the failed presentation and so he'd tried to isolate himself a bit.

"It's not a bad thing to want some time alone or to need intervals of quiet and solace," Maury says. He rubs one hand up and down Harry's arm, pushing more of his magic into him, well aware that it will help the most now. "Just beware that when you're running towards it, that you're seeking it for the right reasons. Otherwise, it doesn't do any good, alright?".

* * *

 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon. How do you think Maury will help Harry sort this out? :) I'm glad y'all are liking this snippet with him. I just really felt like writing him, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to add him to a snippet.**

 **Harry is having butterbeer and sugar cookies right now and would like to offer you some. Maury wishes you a Merry Christmas season and thanks you for supporting his debut snippet chapter. :P**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	7. Pride, Part V

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 ** _Context : After ol' Voldysnort is taken care of, occasionally the other Nevermore realms have a squabble or two. Sometimes, Nevareans have to fight and prominent Circles will join in a Common War Council of sorts, hashing out plans and resources that they are willing to try or agree with. The suggestions and approved actions are then escalated all the way up to the Royals' and handled accordingly. This snippet features Harry trying his 'saving people' thing again..._**

* * *

PRIDE IV

Harry nodded, slowly. His red ears fade to a near pink. He tips his head sideways to study his mentor. "So I should've waited for Theo?" Harry asks, hoarsely.

"For the War Council presentation? Yes." Maury says, simply. "Because Theo knows how to use the connections you have and how to make the most of your Circle's influence. It's partially his responsibility as your Alpha and partially because that's simply the way he works. He's always observant and he makes use of those observations."

Harry sighs. "I-I know he does that and I've learned some of this," he gestures at himself. "From him. I mean, I'm not helpless! I can put together a decent plan or a raid for more than-"

"It's not about you," Maury says, simply. "The main point was to save more lives, yes? Was a plan reached that accomplished that goal? And if so, did it matter whether you were the one to offer that plan or not? It takes time to build up a thick skin, but there are also rules. Your Circle is young—not even through its first decade. It would be a poor Council that didn't consider those factors."

"That doesn't mean that I don't have experience!" Harry throws back. "I've probably been through more in my short life than they have in all of their-!"

"It's not a contest," Maury reaches over, stroking Harry's soft hair. "It's not a who has done what or gone through more, though—yes—" and here, he holds up a hand to stall Harry's protests. "You have been through more. Immensely so. Which also suggests that this can't be the first time you've run into this problem, is it?"

Harry wants to scowl, but the hand petting his hair is nice. "Why do you always have to make sense?"

"Well?"

"…Yes."

"And?"

"Teachers wouldn't believe us. Adults thought we were—well," Harry shrugs. "We'd have to find ways around them and sometimes, it was just kind of easier to sort of—ignore them. Just accept that they wouldn't help and go and do what we needed to anyway."

"Oh?"

Harry relaxes. "So that's what I did. I told Theo when he got back and he well—he went and took care of it."

"Ah. So that's why you couldn't spend more time with him?"

"I-I wanted them to see," Harry explains. "It's a good plan. We could save so much," He pauses, uncertain.

"Harry?"

"Theo made a few changes, but it's still a good plan. What they decided on was alright, but it left like, three points for improvement. I mean, they're looking at it from an elemental point of view and I was just thinking—what if there were a few Nameless Involved?"

Maury smiles. He has a feeling he knows how this will play out and he kind of wants to be there to see it happen. "That is a good point," he allows. "What kind of changes did Theo make?"

Harry half-laughs. "I forgot that not every Circle has a Wikhn and a Hadrian. Theo kind of worded it better."

Maury chuckles. "I see. So he took it to the council then?"

Harry shrugs again. "I don't know. I just—I told him what happened and I gave him the memory of it."

Maury's eyebrows arched upwards in surprise. His lips twitched again, as if he'd like to laugh, but really shouldn't. "I see," he says, at last. "I'm sure he'll handle it wonderfully."

Harry nods, mostly convinced.

Maury grew sober once more. "That's not what's bothering you though, is it?"

"I-I was kind of upset. I mean, it's not like they laughed me out of the hall or anything. They just—stared at me. As if I was—stupid. Like, I didn't know what I was talking about and there was no—they were all-"

"Too many emotions, too quickly and no filter," Maury recites. "What have I told you about that?"

Harry winces. "That pregnancy aggravates my magic, because I'm magic sensitive and not to be reckless." He thumps his head against Maury's shoulder. He's glad for this closeness, even if the conversation is a bit painful. "I wasn't being reckless."

Maury huffs and leans sideways enough to rest his cheek on Harry's head. "Reckless isn't always charging headfirst into danger, little one."

And Harry preens inwardly at the endearment, because sometimes, it's the little things that makes his heart ache a bit less.

"It's jumping off a cliff and forgetting that you can build wings on the way down."

"…I snapped at Quinn," Harry admits, when the silence has almost settled again. He fidgets and tries again. "He—came out to see how I was—after the—presentation. I just. I was upset." He sniffles. "I can't even blame it on hormones. I just—he was there and I was so mad. I-I wanted Theo and he—"

"And you lashed out," Maury finishes, gently. "And then you couldn't stop, because you'd been holding everything in."

"I-I tried." Harry hiccups. "I mean, I knew what I was saying was—wasn't nice."

"Nice?" Maury prompts.

"It wasn't right. I-I meant to hurt him—and I did." Harry cringes. "I didn't mean it, Oret. I didn't!"

"Shh, shhh. I know." Maury croons. "Then what?"

"My magic." Harry whispers. "My magic was—I had to pull it back in."

"Pull it back in?" Maury repeats. He's certain he's not hearing this right. He can't be. Because surely Harry isn't about to say what he thinks he is.

"All of it. I couldn't—the feelings. It was too much," Harry despairs. "I pulled it all back and I—I sealed it."

"Oh Harry." And then Maury is rearranging them, this time—to sit on the ground, with his back against the bench and Harry safely ensconced in his lap. It's definitely not good for an Empath to be shutting themselves down. They thrive on the ability to feel everything and everyone—it's simply a part of who they are. "They're still shut, aren't they?"

Harry whimpers.

"No wonder you're so out of sorts."

Harry only burrows further into the unexpected embrace. He's been missing his Bonded, but closing off the Bonds so his mind wouldn't overload, is taking a greater toll than he expected.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," Maury murmurs. He doesn't speak for a little while longer, but holds Harry in a slight rocking motion. It's something his mother used to do for him and it was always rather soothing. He hopes the same is true for Harry. Eventually, he's aware that Harry's talking and he strains to hear the hiccuped words.

"…And then I called him a consolation prize and I told him to leave me alone," Harry cries. "Why did I do that?"

"Because sometimes when we're hurting, we hurt the people that care the most," Maury says. "A wounded animal strikes back, even against the one trying to rescue it." He sighs. "You are somewhat off-balance, yes, but not because of your pregnancy."

"But my magic's fine!"

"Fine is not shutting things down because it's about to be overwhelming," Maury corrects, gently. "Answer me this, are you upset about the council—or Quinn?"

"Quinn!" The answer is quick to come.

Maury hides a smile. This is what he wants to get at. "Why?"

"B-because I was horrible to him and I shouldn't have said something like that-!"

"Have you apologized?" Maury asks, practically.

"…I can't."

"Oh? Has something managed to-"

"I can't open the link." Harry says in a small voice. "I tried. It's locked."

"On his side?" Maury clarifies.

Harry squeezes his eyes shut. He's only seeing Quinn's face reflecting in his mind's eye from that awful day. He's tried to push at the mental connection between them and it refuses to give. "Yes."

"Talk to him, then. Face to face."

"…He gave Ethan my potions." Harry says, softly. "He always gives them to me and the past few days, he gave them to Ethan to bring to me. I haven't even seen him. I'm sure he's near, because I don't think he'd go far. But I don't see him. I don't hear him and—whenever I go looking for him, he's not where—I-"

"Did you take them?" Maury asks.

"Yeah. I'm not stupid." Harry says, indignantly. "They're the ones I always take."

His mentor chuckles. "I never said you were," he says, fondly..

* * *

 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon. More Harry and Maury bonding! This is one of the longer/more serious snippets. I promise the next one is pure silliness. Really. I just felt like writing these two-I'm glad you're all enjoying it.**

 **Harry is toasting marshmallows now, because CHOCOLATE. Maury is patiently waiting to assemble the s'mores and will glady share, if you would ask. :P**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	8. Pride, Part VI

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 ** _Context : After ol' Voldysnort is taken care of, occasionally the other Nevermore realms have a squabble or two. Sometimes, Nevareans have to fight and prominent Circles will join in a Common War Council of sorts, hashing out plans and resources that they are willing to try or agree with. The suggestions and approved actions are then escalated all the way up to the Royals' and handled accordingly. This snippet features Harry trying his 'saving people' thing again..._**

* * *

PRIDE VI

"Who attended the council with you? Charlie, the twins…?"

"Quinn." Harry says, as if it's obvious.

"Just Quinn?"

And here, Harry stops. He's thinking back, uncertainly. It was mostly a blur from when he arrived. "We all went," he starts. "But I think Hadrian had to see to something and Wikhn didn't go. That leaves," he ticks off something on his hand, leaning back to brace his head against Maury's chest. "The twins, Ethan and Quinn, I guess."

"And you saw them there?"

"We left on the same portal," Harry explains. "But after the presentation—I needed some—space. So I went out onto the upper balcony. It's higher up and it was cold. I knew no one would bother me." He shivers again.

Maury frowns, but adds a warming charm to his winter cloak. He chose the orchard, expecting it to have some sort of temperature controlled climate and it does, but Harry is still feeling cold—in spite of his coat—and that's not a good sign. The closed links will start to make their absence acutely known if Harry doesn't start to connect the dots.

"And then Quinn found you?"

"Yeah. I guess he followed me."

"And-?"

"I yelled. He left." Harry squirms. He's been trying not to think about it, because thinking about it only makes him feel worse. "…And then Ethan came to get me."

"How long?" Maury is mentally counting something in his mind. He knows how long it takes to cast a portal and then wait for a reply. There's something slightly off with the timing.

"What?"

"How long did it take for Ethan to come and get you?" Maury wants to know.

"A couple of minutes?I wasn't timing it or anything. I just—" Harry stops. There's a nagging thought in the back of his mind and he has a feeling he knows what it's for. "What are you getting at?"

"Since you've returned, then what?" Maury prompts. He's already figured out that Quinn was the only one left. The others had been recalled for something or the other—and that had left one of them behind.

Namely, Quinn—and Harry. It would've been perfectly fine, particularly if Harry wasn't in a snit and Quinn was in equally stable humors.

"I can't find him or—oh." Harry curls into himself. The words he'd been trying to ignore, echoed in his head again. "I told him to leave me alone."

"Which is exactly what he's doing." Maury agrees.

"But I didn't mean-! He should know that I was only—that I was only—" Harry sputters.

"Does he know that?" Maury asks, lightly.

"Of course he would! It's not like I—" and here, Harry stops. "Of course he would," he says, a bit unsurely now. Because Quinn would—he's not any stupider than Harry.

The realization dawns with a new weight that Harry realizes, happens to be quite different from his own weighty guilt.

"Your Quinn is very special," Maury says. "And I can promise you that even when a rank is surrendered, the personality doesn't always change with it. A few traits may linger and sometimes even more. His element was Earth, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. Like Theo," Harry says, softly. Because he had sort of forgotten that detail—hasn't had to remember it, specifically, because he's never had to process these kind of flash-fire emotional reactions in relation to his Bonded. Not like this. Not without some kind of buffer.

"Theo?" Maury blinks.

"He's mad like Theo." Harry explains.

"Which is what is throwing you off, because Theo is back and he is obviously not upset with you," Maury fills in. "Ah. I can see how that can be confusing, but Harry, it's your instincts that are off, because in the moment where you didn't have him, you defaulted to Quinn, who was unable to provide you with what Theo normally does."

Harry bit his lip. It seems like this mess is growing worse by the minute.

"What would Theo have done if you'd told him something like that?" Maury prompts.

"Given me a Look and 'ported us home for a lecture," Harry recites. He tries not to squirm, because his Alpha can say more with a single, pointed look than McGonagall could say in an entire school year.

Granted, Theo would have given him space, but not without making his feelings clear on the matter. They could argue and debate, but being deliberately hurtful was not an option. If he felt that Harry had stepped out of line, he would agree to disagree—in order to better sort his thoughts and request a proper discussion as soon as possible.

Even when furious at Theo, Harry always found himself gravitating back to his Alpha, reluctantly returning to the arms that always held him without complaint. He would pout and scowl and Theo would growl and grumble. But they'd be together and by the next morning, calmed down enough to properly sort things through.

"What else?" Maury prompts, before Harry can get too lost in his own memories and thoughts.

"And I would've—I would have told him," Harry falters. Because he would've gone to Theo anyway. Because it would've been proof that Theo cared and words couldn't drive him away. Even if he was a failure, even if he'd tried his best and it hadn't worked, Theo still cared.

"Indeed," Maury says.

"Oh." And Harry hates how small his voice sounds, but he's feeling so tired now, it's not even funny. His stomach growls, faintly and his blush resurfaces.

Maury smiles. "I guess we should try those peaches?"

Harry tries to smile. "Sure."

It's a pretty wisp of silvery magic that brings three peaches floating on over to them. Harry holds them in a clean kerchief on his lap, while Maury calls out his claws and does something with his fingers.

Harry watches as his mentor takes one peach in hand and splays his fingers along the fuzzy flesh. His other hand is placed opposite of it—upside down. There's single twisting movement and then neat peach slices are cradled in Harry's surprised hands.

The pit is in a small square by itself and Maury takes it, tucking it into the corner of his mouth to worry the remaining bits of peach off with his fangs.

After a minute, Harry helps himself and finds that the peach slices are refreshingly sweet and juicy. He easily finishes the slices, before automatically holding up the second peach. There's a questioning chirp to say what he doesn't want to ask out loud.

Maury's smile is lopsided, but he obliges, slicing and coring the second peach.

"If you had to catch him—theoretically speaking—how would you go about it?" Maury speaks around the peach pit in his mouth. He adds the second one and continues the odd ritual of chewing it clean.

Harry's brow furrows carefully in thought. "He runs in the morning and he always takes a shower at about seven." Harry murmurs. "He starts breakfast before his run and leaves spells on everything so that it's all done by the time he's out of the shower."

"Oh? Quite the routine, your Quinn."

"It's for his Healer's status," Harry explains. "It's important to him, even though it means a lot of compromises. Did you ever have one? In your—Circle?" and his voice grows impossibly softer here, because Harry knows how precious those carefully hoarded memories are.

"Two Medics, one Healer," Maury says, lightly. "They were always making each other run laps. I could never quite understand it."

It's the way he says it, because Harry laughs.

* * *

 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon. There's one more Harry/Maury Chapter and then we shift to Harry/Ethan and Harry Quinn...or maybe it's the other way around. lol. and yes, I did feel like eating peaches when I was writing this. Sorry for the posting gap-if anyone else is caught up in this polar vortex thing in the USA, it hit our side this week. Y'all stay safe and warm. We got freezing temps. Icy sleet rain and power failures, which also means, zero internet. SIGH. Power's back and internet is kind of iffy, but here, so I'm posting now. (at least, I'm trying-and if this goes through, I have succeeded!)**

 **Harry is sharing his s'mores. Maury would like to thank you for being so patient. He's very proud of you. :P**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	9. Pride, Part VII

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 ** _Context : After ol' Voldysnort is taken care of, occasionally the other Nevermore realms have a squabble or two. Sometimes, Nevareans have to fight and prominent Circles will join in a Common War Council of sorts, hashing out plans and resources that they are willing to try or agree with. The suggestions and approved actions are then escalated all the way up to the Royals' and handled accordingly. This snippet features Harry trying his 'saving people' thing again..._**

* * *

PRIDE VII

A minute later, Harry sobers. "I can't interrupt his run. He'll skin me alive."

"Best to catch him when he's through then," Maury muses. "Especially since he should be a bit worn out by the time he sees you." He spits out the two peach pits and sets them on the stone walkway beside them. He'll wear them down on the rough edge, turning them into small worry stones, a childhood habit.

"Too tired to run away?" Harry rolls his eyes. "He might have a second wind."

"Don't give him that much credit," Maury scolds. "You're his Submissive. He can't run that far—he won't."

"And if he does?"

"He'll feel guilty and come back."

"…Is that what yours did?"

Maury snorts. "Not quite. We had a big row. Nearly shouted the windows down. Woke Ryu up. He came down and really did shout. Made us all apologize and make up, then we had to take him out for dinner on account of interrupting his nap. I think my ears were ringing 'till the next morning."

Harry blinks. He has nothing to say to that.

After a minute, his mentor snickers. "It was a little more complicated than that, but the gist of it is yes. Because your well-being comes first—they'll assume if you've sought them out at such an early hour, that you need them for something. Even if your Quinn isn't up to speaking to you yet, he won't leave you alone, by yourself, especially if you've gone to meet him after a run."

Harry nods. That is a good step one, he figures. He can make it happen. Maybe Ethan will help. "What do I tell him when he shows up?"

"He's yours, Harry. What do you think you need to tell him?"

"…That I'm sorry. That I didn't mean what I said. That—maybe—we can talk?"

"That's a good start," Maury says, approvingly. "And if he doesn't accept your apology?"

Harry chokes. He hasn't considered the fact that Quinn might not accept his apology. He stares down at the third peach in his hands and slowly offers it up.

Maury calmly slices and cores it, allowing the temporary excuse. He knows Quinn. Understands that Harry's special Healer is special for a reason. He's also aware that revoking a Rank—like Quinn's former Alpha Status—comes with certain repercussions.

He's fairly certain that Quinn is nursing an Alpha's ego at this point and hurt enough to actually give Harry what he didn't want at the time he'd snapped—space and time.

Still, Maury knows that this is for them to sort out in their own way. He will nudge them in the right direction, as long as they will let him.

"…He won't." Harry says, at last. He licks his fingers, contemplatively. "And if he does, then I'll just—we'll talk. We'll sort it out. I won't—I won't leave it this way."

"Good." Maury says, simply. "So that covers, Theo, the council and Quinn."

"Mount Valerian and my empathy," Harry offers, helpfully.

Maury flicks him lightly on the side of his head. "I didn't forget."

They sit in silence for a while longer, before Maury shifts.

Harry stirs, faintly. He's kind of comfy and doesn't really want to move, but there's still things to discuss and so he rouses himself enough to think as clearly as he can manage.

Maury hides a smile from overhead. "What's wrong with Mount Valeraine?"

"Theo said that Ebony called for help." Harry bites his lip. "Ebony, Oret. If she's calling—and Charlie was already there. Then, it's got to be bad, doesn't it?"

"Are you worried about your Bonded being there or that you're here?" Maury asks, practically.

He knows there are multiple reasons and possible stress factors, but the easiest thing to do is to let Harry work it out on his own. He's worried about the upcoming conflict, but knows it will be a good opportunity for Harry's Circle to prove themselves. In that vein, he's interested in seeing how Harry handles this little hiccup.

After all, a Bonded Circle isn't always roses and sunshine.

"…Both, I guess. I mean, I know I could just—try and open the bonds back, but I don't feel—I'm not a good anchor for them right now." Harry admits. He twists his hands together.

"You don't always have to be their anchor, Harry."

"Yes, I do!"

"No." Maury thumps his head atop Harry's, his large arms holding him in a calming embrace. "You don't. It's reciprocal. Remember that. It's called a Circle for a reason. There must be balance." Maury is quiet for a minute. "Is this about the conflict with the fire demons?"

Harry stills. He's been trying not to think about the finer points of this worrying situation and the desperation that drove him to present in front of the War Council. "…You heard about that?"

Maury squeezes him, gently. He'd already decided to return when Theo had called for him. "How's Charlie handling it?"

Harry blows out a puff of air. "I haven't been able to talk to him yet."

Maury hums in answer. Since Ginny's accidental run-in with them, there has been bad blood between Harry's fierce Beta and the wickedly impish creatures that inhabit Mount Valeraine.

"I-I need to. I need to—" and Harry stops here. He feels a bit foolish, because honestly, his Oret is right. There's no need for him to shoulder all of this by himself and on his own.

"Figured it out?" Maury asks.

"Yeah."

"Good." There's a nuzzle to the top of his head, in reward.

Harry leans back into it. He can already solve the remaining problem. "…I need to open the links back, don't I?"

"Yes," Maury says, simply. There is no other way around it.

"…I'm scared."

"Don't be."

"What if—what if they're all—mad?" Harry swallows. Because that's half of what's keeping him stuck like this. Fear is paralyzing after all and he's wondered.

"Then you will have to apologize." Maury says, matter-of-factly. "Harry, sometimes it isn't a matter of being right or wrong. It's realizing that there's something more important than ourselves. I'm not saying you can't be upset or that things won't bother you. I'm only saying that before it reaches this point again—before it ever comes this far—stop yourself. Think hard and long about what you want. Don't get lost in your head and wander around like this. You can think yourself in circles for days, wondering why you did something, but that doesn't fix the problem. Sometimes, you have to let it be and others, you have to do something."

"…This is one of those times I have to do something, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is."

"I'm still—scared." Harry pokes cautiously at the locked bonds inside of him. He wants to open them—just a tiny bit.

It makes the tight, twisted knot inside of him, ease just a fraction as he attempts to press against the channels that have so often fueled him with warmth and emotion.

"Courage is being afraid and doing it anyway," Maury says, tartly. "Come on now. Up with you. Enough dawdling."

Harry wrinkles his nose. "But you _never_ have time for this anymore." He leans back into the hug, to make a point.

Maury huffs a laugh. "I have been too busy saving your neck," He says, lightly. "But that is no excuse. Sort out your affairs and perhaps we can take a short excursion of our own, eh?"

Harry chirrs inquisitively.

"I'll think of something fun," Maury proclaims. "It'll be good for both of us. Are you ready now?"

Harry twists in his arms to stare up at that familiar face. He searches every shadow and crevice for the conviction that he knows is there. Maury believes in him. Knows that he's capable of doing the thing that he's not quite ready to do. Will stay there, with him, until those difficult things are done-and then some. It's everything he needs right now.

Seeing that proof is enough. Harry snuggles into him for a moment longer. "Just a minute longer."

"Take two."

* * *

 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon. Ryu/Ryuusen is Maury's Alpha-like Theo, Ryu was a young Alpha and Maury was much older and set in his ways. The next chapter is a Harry/Ethan switching right into Harry/Quinn. How do you think Harry will "trap" his beloved Quinn? :P Hope you enjoyed this little glimpse of Maury. The conflict with the fire demons won't be resolved in this Prompt snippet-but loosely carried over and finished up in "WRATH". Next prompt due is "ENVY" after "PRIDE" is finished.**

 **Harry has eaten too many s'mores. Maury is mixing up a homemade stomach remedy of hot ginger tea with honey and a hint of Pure Healer's Blood. :P**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	10. Pride, Part VIII

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 ** _Context : After ol' Voldysnort is taken care of, occasionally the other Nevermore realms have a squabble or two. Sometimes, Nevareans have to fight and prominent Circles will join in a Common War Council of sorts, hashing out plans and resources that they are willing to try or agree with. The suggestions and approved actions are then escalated all the way up to the Royals' and handled accordingly. This snippet features Harry trying his 'saving people' thing again..._**

* * *

PRIDE VIII

"Are you moping?"

It's Ethan asking, and there's a note of disbelief in his voice as he approaches, his steps steady and curious.

Harry sniffs. He will not answer that, thank you very much. He is, after all, attempting to scheme just a little bit. It's not his fault that it's slow going.

" _You_ are moping," Ethan announces, when he finally circles around to see where Harry has retreated up to in their living room. He notices things, like when Harry returned from his walkabout and decided that a treat might help to lift his spirits. Maury is good for Harry, because he has a way of sorting things out and in spite of all that he's suffered, still manages to be exceptionally kind where Harry is concerned.

There's a muffled whine from the settee and Harry's tufted hair is sticking up, visible from the far end of the room.

"And don't tell me that you aren't." Ethan says.

Harry is sprawled out on the settee, staring up at the blank ceiling. He's thinking about what his Oret said and wishing that Maury hadn't left already.

Ethan lightly swats him with one of the throw pillows, ignoring Harry's grumbling protest. There's a trail of floating laundry baskets accompanying him into the room. He'd paused in the middle of the chore to check on Harry after a slight tug on the muted Bond.

It'd felt like Harry was fiddling with it and after several long, agonizing minutes when they didn't open, Ethan huffed and made up his mind to take matters into his own hand.

His conversation starter seems to have grabbed Harry's attention though, because while Harry is _not_ pouting, his green eyes are bright and vibrant. His mind is busy and that's a detail that Ethan tucks away for later thought.

Harry scowls, because there really isn't anything he can say to Ethan, because he is moping. Sort of. In his own way.

Alright—really moping.

It's just that—facing Ethan is only slightly less scarier and largely because Harry knows that if Ethan needs to hug, kiss and cuddle him until he spills his guts, then he'll do it.

Quinn is the main issue for the moment though, and there's no way Harry will seek him out on his own. Oh no. It'll be even worse because right now, the only voice that will be heard—is his.

It doesn't help that he can feel the mental link closed off—on Quinn's side. He hadn't even realized that Quinn had sealed it off when he had.

It's worse, in fact. To draw the conclusion that he's really messed up and that even _Quinn_ with his mental link inside of Harry's _head_ , won't talk to him is a bad feeling.

That thought alone, is eating him up inside.

Harry tentatively brushes his magic against the bonded strands he can feel inside of him. It prompts a visible shudder, because there's so much compacted emotion locked inside of it.

But then Ethan is standing in front of him and Harry looks to see what's the matter.

"Milkshake or smoothie?" Ethan asks. He has two glasses expertly balanced in one hand.

One is a tall, green-glassed specimen showing a vibrant yellow smoothie with red fruit curls garnishing the edges. A neon straw brightens up the drink.

For the milkshake, it's strawberry—not the usual Chocolate Delight that his Merrow makes—and there's plenty of sliced strawberries layered over the top, with a hint of whipped cream. There's a striped straw accompanying it as well.

The sight makes his heart twist, sadly, because it's the kind of snack that Quinn would approve. A fruit-based milkshake and a fruit-loaded smoothie. Either option is relatively good right now, but in spite of his sweet cravings, Harry can't bring himself to pick the milkshake.

Not when Quinn would have made him a smoothie and served him a skewer or two of fruit chunks to round it up to a full 'snack'.

Ethan wiggles the glasses a bit, to draw his attention. The floating laundry baskets settle onto the floor behind him. He'll set them to folding after he's sure that Harry's fine.

In fact, Harry could probably stand to help with some of it, Ethan muses to himself. He's still waiting for Harry to decide which drink he prefers.

"Smoothie," Harry answers at last, reluctantly sitting up. He accepts the treat and starts, faintly, when Ethan drops into the newly vacated space on the settee. He hopes there isn't a lecture to come because he really can't handle that right now. "What?"

"Nothing," Ethan hums, slipping an arm around Harry's shoulders and pulling him close.

It takes a half-second, but Harry automatically leans into him, head resting on one sturdy shoulder. He sips his smoothie and the glass is only half-full until he's throwing it away and turning straight into Ethan's open arms with a cry.

The glasses are successfully floated away to the coffee table near the center of the room, courtesy of Ethan's quick reflexes.

And Harry is wrapped up in those arms that he's come to desperately crave in times like this. Ethan holds him without comment and zero hesitating as he presses his chin atop Harry's head.

The tears threaten to come and Harry sniffles, trying to keep the third and fourth ones from falling. It's too late to help the first two.

Ethan's fingers on his chin tip his face up and the kiss that follows is sweet and accepting.

It's enough.

The inklings of fear are frozen in place. Harry takes a deep breath, opening the thread of their bond that links him to Theo. He chokes at the instant feedback of warmth that comes surging into him.

A second later, Ethan's bond is open too.

Harry quivers, clutching at those tanned arms as his magic and body reacquaint themselves with familiar sensations.

He can read relief, love and absolute acceptance in Ethan's bond. It's singing happily, glad to be open to him once more. The lack of harsh judgment is somehow, still a surprise, even after all that he knows of them.

"M'sorry," Harry hiccups. He hadn't meant to shut all of them out like that. Right now, it's painfully obvious that doing so has only hurt him.

Not them.

Not that he'd wanted to hurt them.

"Forgiven," Ethan whispers. He kisses the top of Harry's messy head.

"No…" Harry cries, miserably. Because it's just like Ethan to be so good to him. So kind when he doesn't deserve it.

"Shhh," Ethan soothes. He's rather relieved that Harry's finally letting some of the emotions out. It doesn't help to keep things locked up inside. A good cry is always beneficial in one way or another. "Quinn's gone for a run, but-"

"I need to talk to him." Harry says, steadily.

Ethan's eyes gleam. "Shall we stalk him?" he asks, lightly.

Too lightly.

Harry nods. He won't think about the glee in Ethan's voice just yet. He will need all the help he can get right now. "I-I need to."

Ethan winks. "He should come through the backdoor. I would suggest being ready for him, hm?"

Harry brightens. He knows what that means. Ethan often brings Quinn a post-workout smoothie—one of the few things he can actually make—and a fresh towel.

In fact, Harry's seen Quinn blindly accept those two items from either one of his Bonded—without actually paying attention to who is giving them to him.

At this point, he's able to match Ethan's knowing smile. This might work after all.

* * *

 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon. Ahaha! And that's how you trap a Quinn. Sort of. We'll skip straight to them next chapter. I want to wrap this bit up and the Quinn snippet is going to be NICE. I almost forgot to post this, but here you go. Why am I up this late? No sane reason whatsoever. it's too windy aka, too loud for me to sleep in peace and I can't find my earplugs. Ahem.**

 **Harry is sleeping off his s'mores. Ethan is keeping an eye on him and folding laundry. SO. MUCH. LAUNDRY. :P**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	11. Pride, Part IX

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 ** _Context : After ol' Voldysnort is taken care of, occasionally the other Nevermore realms have a squabble or two. Sometimes, Nevareans have to fight and prominent Circles will join in a Common War Council of sorts, hashing out plans and resources that they are willing to try or agree with. The suggestions and approved actions are then escalated all the way up to the Royals' and handled accordingly. This snippet features Harry trying his 'saving people' thing again..._**

* * *

PRIDE IX

Night falls before Harry even sets eyes on his reluctant Healer. In fact, he's been sitting on the steps for so long, that Ethan returned indoors to finish up his chores.

Like a hovering mother hen, Ethan has checked in twice—after the dishes, the laundry and even passing on an official message from Theo.

Their Bonded will be returning later—several Circles have responded to the uprising and therefore, the ones who arrived earliest, will be given reprieve. They've agreed to work in shifts and Theo hopes they'll be back tonight—if not the following morning—for a twelve hour rest and feed—before heading back out.

From the worried trickle of emotions he can tie to Hadrian, Harry can tell that things have been difficult, but manageable and that his Bonded are all making an effort not to worry him.

That sort of consideration makes him antsy. Because right now, he's still unable to give them his full focus and attention. His mind is fixed on Quinn and right now, he can't get a read on him.

Theo has sent him several soothing pulses of calmness though and it's gone a long way in making sure that he doesn't drive himself crazy with imagined scenarios that won't ever happen.

A few gentle pokes from Hadrian have served to break the monotony a bit as well. He can't feel the twins or Charlie very well, but that's because of how close they are to the mountain and the wealth of their natural element around them.

Eventually, Harry sits on the bottom step of the second-story balcony stairs that wind down to the small courtyard off to the left of the main house. It gives him an excellent view of the crumbling walkway that leads to the shadowy woods that have grown considerably darker in the past fifteen minutes than they have for the last hour or so.

Ethan is positive that this is the trail that Quinn chose for his run and so Harry has opted to tackle this head-on. He will sit here and wait.

It doesn't hurt that Ethan is puttering around somewhere near the front door, tidying up in his usual manner—the way that lets him worry, while being productive. He doesn't like it when the Twins are away and he _really_ doesn't like it when it's because of their fire element.

The faintest rustle of a sound catches his ear and Harry looks up, hopeful—to see a pale figure drawing near at a leisurely trot.

Relief floods through him and Harry straightens up at the exact moment that Quinn spots him.

This, Harry can tell, because Quinn stops dead in his tracks and doesn't move for several long seconds.

Harry's holding his breath until he sees the shoulders relax—a bit too much—and Quinn's slow walk leaves his former trot looking like a flat-out-sprint.

It takes several, agonizing minutes for Quinn to reach the back stairs. His eyes are fixed on Harry the entire time.

When he's almost close enough to touch, Harry lurches to his feet, wobbling, because his legs have gone to sleep on him. He manages to catch himself on the stair railing, painfully aware of Quinn's sharp teal eyes tracking his movements.

Silence stretches out between them and for one awful second, Harry's forgotten what he wanted to say.

Mutely, he offers the towel and a beat later, the post-workout smoothie with a stasis charm flickering around the rim, to keep it fresh.

Quinn's unwavering stare drills into him, hard. When Harry's almost sure that his peace offering won't be accepted, one pale, half-scaled claw-hand, reaches out to take the towel.

Flipping it out to shake it open, Quinn flicks it over his head, half-hiding his face from view. He accepts the smoothie and drinks it, without comment, head bowed.

Harry's hands clench at his sides. _Courage, courage, courage._ He chants, silently to himself.

"Quinn?" He tries.

The smoothie glass is banished to the kitchen. The towel is tugged down to rest around his shoulders. There's a fine sheen of sweat on his face, but it's swabbed away by the towel.

"I'm sorry."

The words sound empty, even as he speaks them, in spite of what it has taken him to come this far.

Quinn doesn't react. His gaze remains flat and solemn.

Harry sucks in a breath. Specifics. Right. He could be apologizing about anything at this point, couldn't he? "I'm sorry about what I said—back at the war council—after the presentation. I-I was—upset—and I took it out on you. I didn't mean to."

White-blond eyebrows narrow faintly and Quinn's lips press together. He reaches up to rub at the back of his neck, looking away as if to keep from saying something.

Harry gently pushes against their shared mental bond, but it doesn't give.

Not yet.

More silence stretches out and Harry fights against the urge to fold in on himself. He can feel a maelstrom of emotions swirling through Quinn as they stand there. He can't even begin to sort them out from his own but there's an undercurrent of _hurthurthurthurthurt_ that keeps thrumming through his veins and he can't silence it.

Not yet.

"Quinn?" Harry tries again. He waits until those teal eyes are focused on him again. "Can we talk?"

Quinn shrugs.

Harry bites his lip. This is harder than he thought it would be. "…Can you open the link again?"

The irritated expression on Quinn's face says a great deal more than mere words.

Ah.

And now, Harry's pretty sure that Quinn is still upset with him.

Instead of answering through an opened link, however, Quinn reaches into his sweatshirt and draws out the necklace with his focus object. Pointing it to his throat, in that familiar way, he mouths the familiar words that gives him the artificial voice. _Ororo Carmena._

"Quinn—you shouldn't-!" Harry protests. "If you'd just open the link, it'd be-"

"It's my voice, whatever's left of it now," Quinn says, in that dry, almost rasping tone. "And quite frankly, what I have to say couldn't possibly be properly conveyed through a mere mind link."

Harry swallows.

* * *

 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon. And so we have Quinn. Woo boy. I guess Harry is going to get that lecture after all...oh Quinn. Also, this Emerald Hollow house thingy, is where I picture them eventually ending up in TBDH. They buy an old Estate and fix it up themselves...oh the stories that could be had there... -floats away with happy author dreams-**

 **Harry has woken up for cookies and cuddles. Quinn is happy to oblige. He is not telling Harry that the sugar cookies don't have real butter in them, but rather coconut oil and pumpkin puree. :P**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	12. Pride, Part X

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 ** _Context : After ol' Voldysnort is taken care of, occasionally the other Nevermore realms have a squabble or two. Sometimes, Nevareans have to fight and prominent Circles will join in a Common War Council of sorts, hashing out plans and resources that they are willing to try or agree with. The suggestions and approved actions are then escalated all the way up to the Royals' and handled accordingly. This snippet features Harry trying his 'saving people' thing again..._**

* * *

PRIDE X

"I don't understand," Harry says—because he really doesn't. He's apologized—and he does mean it, by Arielle's fangs. Right now, he feels so miserable, that he just wants this awful thing to be over.

The sooner this is a memory in his mind, the better off he'll be. They'll all be.

"Then answer me this," Quinn asks, head tilted ever so slightly to the side. His voice is very carefully controlled.

Harry's stomach flip flops. He knows that tilt. Knows that there's a question coming that he isn't really going to like. Knows that it's going to point out something that he's been trying to ignore.

"Why didn't you listen to me?"

And Harry freezes. Because there's so many factors there. So many other things he was thinking about and none of them had anything to do with Quinn. He hadn't ignored Quinn on purpose—he'd checked with all of his Bonded before proceeding to the presentation—!

"You asked for my opinion and continued on anyway, as if it didn't matter," Quinn says. "Why did you even bother asking for my input when you had absolutely no intention of-"

"Everyone else said it was fine!" Harry snaps, bristling. Because while it wasn't his best plan, it was still good. Good enough, anyway.

"What did they actually tell you?" Quinn throws back. "Didn't it all amount to—'wait for Theo'? Albeit in a less patronizing way?"

Harry scowls. "They said it was my choice and I made my choice. If you don't agree with it, that's fine. We don't have to-"

"I said that it needed more work and that you'd have plenty of time to brainstorm alternate strategies before Theo returned." Quinn says. "It needed work."

"Then why didn't you tell me how to fix it!" Harry snaps.

"Because I didn't know!"

"What?" Harry falters. Because this is the first time he's hearing this.

"I didn't know." Quinn repeats, a tad slower, as if to be sure that Harry hears him this time. "I only knew that something was off. I couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly, but I knew it needed more work. I don't make up battle strategies in my spare time, Harry. I'm a Healer, by Arielle's sacred stars. I think up ways to keep people alive and while it does require some of the same quick thinking and management of resources, it's a completely different world compared to what you were doing."

"You could have said something…" Harry tries.

"You should have been able to sense that," Quinn says, irritated. "That's what made it worse. You should have known—as far as I could tell, you did—and still, you went ahead anyway. Emotion over logic."

Harry flushes. Can feel the warmth creeping up his neck and to his ears, because Quinn is right. That is what he did. He knew there was something off about the plan, but he'd panicked a bit and he hadn't wanted to wait for Theo.

Time was of the essence and figuring out extra details had taken far too much time. He knew it would work—with a bit of extra effort. It wouldn't be fancy or fluid, but it would have worked.

"That's not the point," Quinn says, sharply.

Only then, does Harry realize that he's spoken aloud.

"I will never _demand_ anything from you, Harry. But that was a very strongly worded suggestion. You came to me first—why?"

Harry can't look at him. He knows why. Because he wanted an honest opinion—in a hurry. Quinn wasn't one to sugarcoat things, but he would temper his words—unlike his resident Merrow.

"Because you knew I would tell you what you needed to know, but—that wasn't enough. It wasn't what you wanted to hear and because you didn't slow down to think it through, you rushed on ahead until you found the answer you wanted."

"I-!" Harry stops. Because that is true. He did systematically search out his Bonded, frantically trying to verify what his empathy had not quite rejected. It hadn't felt wrong—but it certainly hadn't been right.

Quinn's piercing gaze makes Harry squirm. "You did not trust me." Quinn repeats. "Not my word, nor my experience—you did not even take into consideration that perhaps there were greater reasons behind my answer. I know this is not like you. I know that you take great care and time with the decisions you make that generally affect all of us—which was why your behavior this time, left a great deal to be addressed. Then, the moment Theo returns—you didn't even slow down enough to rethink it, did you?"

Harry's shoulders slowly slump. He didn't. He trusted that Theo would fix—oh. _Oh._ And that realization does hurt, because he hadn't meant it that way.

He'd just worried. Found himself worrying. Couldn't stop himself from worrying and had allowed the strong pulse of fear to dictate the first request out of his mouth when his Alpha had returned.

"He fixed it," Harry says, in a small voice. Because Theo had—in the ways that Harry hadn't been able to figure out on his own. "And-"

"And took it off and back to the council, yes?" Quinn's voice is hard. "Harry, we cannot afford to keep using all of our connections and never giving anything back. We are at a distinct disadvantage at the present time. We called in the sorts of favors that normally are never even invoked until at least a hundred years of friendship has passed between Circles. People we barely knew, put their complete and total trust in us. They believed in us and our new, budding friendships, fragile as they are and backed us."

"I know…" Harry says, miserably. He has a feeling he knows what Quinn is about to say next and he doesn't want to hear it. Not when it will make his heart ache just a bit deeper.

"And still, knowing that if you took a plan like that to the council—and it was accepted—who do you suppose, would back you?" Quinn's teal eyes flashed with fire. "Would you have so carelessly pitched your own strategies if you thought for longer than a second, that it was not only your Circle that would be required to act, but that of your dearest friends? Did you even consider that?"

Harry's cry is muffled in the hand that goes to his mouth. He wants to protest—but he hasn't been thinking about that. He couldn't. Because if he did, then he never would have taken that plan to the council. He'd simply—he'd had to do something and then, just sitting around to wait had never, ever helped. It'd never ended well and so he'd forced himself to act, even when instinct whispered that something was not quite right.

"We trust you with our lives," Quinn's voice is passionate. "We trust you with our hearts. We trust you completely—with our magic. Our blood. Our very souls, Harry. And this is the repayment?"

He's crying then, because he can't help it. Taking two steps forward to close the gap between them, Harry reaches out for Quinn. His hand falls helplessly on Quinn's chest—but it is not taken.

There's a fresh pain visible in those teal eyes and Harry knows the name for that. Knows that Quinn doesn't want to hurt him anymore than he wishes to be hurt.

But sometimes, harsh words are necessary.

"I'm sorry." Harry hiccups. "I'm sorry, Quinn. I didn't—I didn't mean it."

"Trust that is broken is not so easily repaired." Quinn says, softly.

"You won't accept my apology?" Harry asks, heartbreakingly.

"I accept your apology," Quinn takes a deep breath. "But I cannot forgive you, just yet."

Harry's bright green eyes well with fresh tears. These words are the worst ones yet. "I—I'll do—what do you want me to do?" the offer is tumbling from his lips, before he can double check them, but now, he's listening to his instincts.

And his instincts are telling him that Quinn is still his and still, will never, ever, truly hurt him. But, it is now up to him to bridge any gap that may arise from what he has done in rashness and not considered in the long-term.

For the first time, there's a slight glimmer of approval from Quinn.

Harry starts when one of Quinn's warm hands tips his chin up. He stares into those mesmerizing teal eyes.

"Do you trust me?"

Harry's breath catches in his throat. "Yes."

"Then close your eyes."

* * *

 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon. How was that for a lecture? LOL. It took me a while to decide how I wanted Quinn to react, but there's some nice lil fluff hurt/comfort in the next chapter. :) My holiday company is currently wrapping their presents, which leaves me free to sneak in a quick update on this fic. Happy Christmas Eve, you wonderful readers!**

 **Harry is busily wrapping gifts of his own. Quinn is patiently handing him the tape, scissors, and bows.**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	13. Pride, Part XI

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 ** _Context : After ol' Voldysnort is taken care of, occasionally the other Nevermore realms have a squabble or two. Sometimes, Nevareans have to fight and prominent Circles will join in a Common War Council of sorts, hashing out plans and resources that they are willing to try or agree with. The suggestions and approved actions are then escalated all the way up to the Royals' and handled accordingly. This snippet features Harry trying his 'saving people' thing again..._**

* * *

PRIDE XI

The request takes a second to register and biting his lip, Harry sniffles. After a beat, he closes his eyes. Quinn's fingers stroke gently on his tear-stained cheek and something rustles quietly.

"I'm taking you to the exam room, behind my quarters," Quinn says, calmly. "Where we're going to have a very specific discussion about your health while I check on your-"

Harry's eyes pop open. "We're what?"

"Nine days since your last check-up." Quinn says, grumpily. "What did I say about weekly check-ins?"

Harry blushes all the way down to his toes. It wasn't that he was skipping them on purpose, it just sort of slipped his mind with everything else going on. "…Not to miss them?"

"Exactly. Taking potions alone doesn't guarantee that everything works the way it's supposed to," Quinn says, frowning. "Left to your own devices, you rarely take as good care of yourself as you ought to."

Harry gulps. There's a purposeful gleam in those teal eyes and he's a little worried. Just a little. "W-what are you going to do?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Quinn says, tartly. He doesn't give Harry a chance to answer though, because he leans down to kiss him, sweetly.

And it steals Harry's breath away, because Quinn, so rarely ever initiates anything. He's grasping at Quinn's jacket and stretching up on tip-toe, chasing those warm lips, before Quinn leans back out of range.

"Objections?" Quinn asks.

Harry shakes his head.

"Eyes." Quinn reminds.

Harry closes his eyes as those familiar arms wrap around him. He hears the whispered words for _"temptrificus Alloras_ " and realizes, belatedly, that it was meant to keep the spell from disorienting him.

They materialize in the private exam room nestled in the back, west wing of the house. Harry's partially sure it's all magic and not quite there, because no matter where they've lived, Quinn's always had access to this room.

It's warm, but a bit unnerving, considering the amount of medical equipment present. Some of them, Harry would rather not know anything about. Not to mention there are rows upon rows of shimmering, glittering and stasis-charmed medicines, potions and other magical cures.

Harry starts, faintly—eyes open to realize that Quinn has somehow managed to pick him up in the transition from outside the Estate through the portal into the exam room. He squeaks, softly—when set down atop the papered exam table.

"Shirt and trousers," Quinn says, briskly. "Any injuries I should know about?"

And Harry's confused again, because he was worrying. He thought Quinn was—well, those thoughts are swiftly chased away as Quinn strips out of his jogging wear.

Harry admires the taut muscles highlighted by the expected sheen of sweat. There's a micro shower stall in the far corner of the room and Quinn's apparently about to duck into it for a minute.

Brilliant yellow, blue, green and teal scales are rippling agitatedly over his pale skin and it's the only hint that he's not as calm as he currently appears.

That detail spurs Harry into action and he obediently strips out of his clothes to sit comfortably in his pants and sock-clad feet.

"Socks too, Harry." Quinn's voice floats through the room.

Harry rolls his eyes. He tugs them off and tosses them on the somewhat folded stack of clothes at the end of the table.

It takes a half second for Quinn to emerge from the micro shower, a spell drying the water from his skin and another tending to his damp hair. He's sprayed with disinfectant and properly sterilized—as the embedded spells on the black stone floor do their work.

Soon, he stands shirtless in front of Harry, his fluffy hair pinned back with two slender clips, giving his normally cheerful face a rather severe look.

"Head here, feet there," Quinn directs, flicking the clothes to a charmed laundry hamper in the corner of the room—where his own clothes had vanished.

Harry keeps his grumbling murmur to himself, but carefully eases down to lie on the table. He watches, curiously as Quinn goes about conducting their usual weekly check-up for the baby.

It's always a bit of a surprise that he's going to be a mother—father—whatever. Bearer. That's the word. Right. That there's an actual baby—a new life—a part of him—and of his Bonded, slowly growing.

Several very long minutes later, Quinn sighs. "Everything looks fine. You're doing great," he says, simply.

"I am?" Harry is surprised.

"Except for the part where you're not quite taking as good care of yourself as you should be," Quinn deadpans. He summons a rolled leather case from one of the shelves across the room.

Unrolling it on the clean counter behind him, he glances over at Harry. A stiff skin brush is produced and he shows it, briefly, to Harry, before starting the actual brushing ritual.

It takes all of five seconds for Harry to start purring. He likes this—the stiff brush bristles moving over his skin in a methodical, circular motion. It starts at the soles of his feet and works up towards his shoulders. Always brushing up towards his heart and gentling around joints and sensitive areas.

Too soon, the nice brushing is over and Harry is yawning as he fights the urge to roll over and curl up. He can feel his magic singing beneath his skin, happily revitalized. He hopes the second part of the skin thing will follow.

At least, it usually does.

He's relieved when Quinn tucks the brush away and continues his rummaging as if he's searching for something else.

"Do you want relaxing, warming or cooling?" Quinn holds up a custom-blended bottle of massage oil.

Harry perks up at once, because this is his favorite part and also something that Quinn has always done well. "No cooling," He says, quickly.

"Relaxing it is, then," Quinn mutters to himself. He pours a liberal measure in his hands and rubs them together, checking something with his magic and the actual oil.

"Feet?" Harry wants to know, toes wiggling.

"Close your eyes," Quinn retorts. But he does circle around to Harry's feet.

Harry's eyes close and he doesn't even twitch when Quinn's warmed, oiled hands begin to work over his tired, aching feet. It's ridiculously easy to turn him into a rather satisfied puddle of pampered submissive.

"Let me move your neck," Quinn warns, sliding his smooth hands around Harry's neck and waiting for the deeper relaxation to follow. Sure enough, Harry's already half-gone—locked into that blissful space between sleeping and wakefulness.

Quinn deftly continues, working out the tightness in the muscles he can feel there and eventually transitioning up to a hot oil scalp massage.

Harry's pleasurable groan is embarrassingly loud, but even as his face reddens, he can't help it.

Quinn chuckles from overhead, bending down enough to kiss Harry's warm forehead. "Asleep yet?"

"Nuh-uh." Harry hums. Another yawn sneaks out. He purrs again as Quinn scratches gently along his shoulders with not-quite-clawed hands.

"Keep your eyes closed," Quinn murmurs.

Harry's brow furrows, but he does as he's asked.

"And up you go—let me see your wings," Quinn prompts.

There's a protesting murmur this time, but Harry heaves himself upwards, into a cross-legged position. His cooperation is rewarded with a chuckle and movement near him—which soon turns out to be Quinn joining him on the exam table.

Comfortably settled in front of Harry, Quinn coaxes him closer and into his arms, bracing him before the peach-silver wings are called out.

Quinn clicks his tongue against his teeth in disapproval, at the state those normally lustrous wings. They're drooping and he can tell at once, where it's been strained. "Harry." He says, disapprovingly.

"M'sorry." Harry cringes. He doesn't need to see another stern expression on Quinn's face. He'd rather see something happier. "Just busy." He twitches at Quinn's flick to his forehead, but nestles closer, glad to be near—relieved to be half-held.

Quinn doesn't say anything else, but he does get straight to work.

It's probably an hour before Harry rouses himself from the half-dozing position, pillowed in Quinn's arms, half-atop his chest, as Quinn slicks handfuls of warmed oil over his sore wings.

He's neglected them a bit and it shows in the way that every painful prickle can be soothed away by Quinn's expert touch.

It takes very little to reduce him to a softly gasping, heaving mess—quivering with each deliberate stroke on his precious wings.

"Still with me?" Quinn asks, kissing Harry's oiled hair.

There's a grunt in answer and Harry mouths the pale shoulder closest to him. It hurts—but it also feels _so good._

"You need to cut down on your flying," Quinn says, lightly. "Or at least make sure you're maintaining proper wing care between sessions. You're too young for them to be alright as they are and even so, it's a good habit to get into."

Harry whimpers as Quinn rubs over one particularly sensitive spot. The fingers gentle even more.

"So sensitive," Quinn murmurs, stroking down one glistening spine. "Call them back."

Harry shudders, head tipping backwards, shoulders rolling, back arched. His wings fold back in, with only the faintest of protests.

"Beautiful…" Quinn hums, leaning forward to kiss the base of Harry's throat.

Harry startles, eyes flying open, body trembling.

"Shh." Quinn soothes. "Close your eyes."

And he doesn't want to, but he does. Even as his body trembles and quivers.

Even as his magic ripples inside of him. Empathy warring within.

Because this is Quinn.

And he trusts him.

* * *

 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon. and-everyone, all together now-AWWWWW! Was that suitably nice enough? Skin brushing is an actual thing, btw. Quinn's being a bit sneaky here, as you'll see in the next chapter. I hope you all have had a fabulous Christmas! I'm sad that mine is over. lol. I'm waiting on the sugar high to wear off, as I've eaten way too much chocolate covered cookie things.**

 **Harry and Co have had a wonderful Christmas and they implore me to finish this fic, in spite of Christmas being over.**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	14. Pride, Part XII

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 ** _Context : After ol' Voldysnort is taken care of, occasionally the other Nevermore realms have a squabble or two. Sometimes, Nevareans have to fight and prominent Circles will join in a Common War Council of sorts, hashing out plans and resources that they are willing to try or agree with. The suggestions and approved actions are then escalated all the way up to the Royals' and handled accordingly. This snippet features Harry trying his 'saving people' thing again..._**

* * *

PRIDE XII

He's settled into something soft and vaguely familiar. The scent, Harry thinks, is what is familiar, but he is trying to do as Quinn's asked—and so he doesn't open his eyes.

Yet.

"Quinn?"

"Right here," comes the comforting reply and then those warm, slick hands are on him again.

Harry writhes on the generous softness beneath him, deciding it is a bed, before wondering why Quinn's bed doesn't smell like Quinn.

He starts, faintly, when he feels thin strips of velvet twining around him.

"I'm going to wrap your arms for a bit—and coat them in the Extra Strength Regeneration salve," Quinn explains. "Stop twitching."

Harry huffs. It's hard to not-twitch, considering that Quinn is the one who has him so keyed up. He says as much and is rewarded with a soft pinch to his slightly rounding belly.

He does manage to hold his arms relatively still so that Quinn can wrap them in the soft velvety bandages—then slathers them generously with great big gobs of cooling, healing salve.

It makes him shiver, violently as the sudden shift in temperature begins to affect him.

"Hey—hey—easy," Quinn soothes.

But it's cold and he doesn't like the cold. Not when it reminds him of things. Not when he can't move his arms and not when he feels so naked there, still partially clothed and only in front of Quinn.

"I'm getting a blanket," Quinn says, somewhere from off the side. "Pull on Charlie's flames, use it to warm yourself."

But Harry doesn't want a blanket and right now, he doesn't give a damn about Charlie's flames. His magic is sputtering a bit, having all but gone to sleep during the happy session with Quinn's magic hands.

So now, Harry whines and when Quinn doesn't answer him, he opens his eyes.

It's in time to see a great swathe of blackness descending on him and his yelp of panic is louder than he can help.

"You're fine, you're fine-!" Quinn says—and does something to move the blackness away.

And that's when Harry realizes it was a blanket, fluttering into place around him. Thick and fluffy, in colors of deep brown and navy blue, Quinn is tucking him in.

The blanket helps.

So does the warming spell cast over it.

Quinn is bustling around the room and Harry's not quite certain what he's missing. It looks an awful lot like Theo's room, though he can't think why Quinn would have brought him there.

Generally, they all sleep in the sleeping room or his room. Theo needs his privacy so they give it to him.

Harry bites his lip. He doesn't want to be in Theo's room without Theo.

"How are your arms?" Quinn reappears at the side of the bed, looking impeccably perfect and one hundred percent business.

Harry's not exactly happy with that, but he does recognize the question and the intent behind it. "Cold." He says, simply.

Quinn shakes his head. "It's supposed to be cold, that's how you know it's working." He tucks the covers more firmly around Harry.

Silence stretches out.

Harry gives a pleading whine. He won't ask for this. Not if Quinn isn't willing to give it on his own. He peers up at Quinn, searching for a sign that his request will be granted.

There's a huff, but Quinn doesn't look upset. With an exasperated sigh, he lifts one edge of the blanket and slips in.

Harry's stifled cry is muffled in one warm shoulder as Quinn settles along the length of him, impossibly long arms twining around his shoulders.

This warmth he can feel. It's already curling around him in lazy motions, stirring his sleepy magic and reminding it to stay alert.

Each passing minute serves to make the growing warmth into a searing heat that makes him feel as if he's about to be roasted alive in the best sort of way.

Harry purrs again, snuggled as close as he can manage, his lethargic limbs uncooperative in pushing him closer.

Quinn already knows what he wants though, because he kisses Harry's cheek with warm, wet lips and gently rearranges to be half-smothering him.

The warmth and coolness fight within him until Harry is almost exhausted. He doesn't know how much more he can feel.

"What are you doing to me?" the words spill out, half in desperation and half in curiosity. Because he kind of wants to know and he also wonders if Quinn will tell him.

There's another snorting laugh and then Quinn digs his chin a little deeper onto the top of Harry's head. "Skin to skin contact for a reacting empath." He blows lightly on Harry's hair, tickling his nose. "Really, Harry."

Harry sniffs at that, too dignified for the irritated whuffle he'd like to give.

There's a chuckle this time and Quinn shifts. He can feel that Harry's warmed up and is feeling mischievous enough to tease him, just a bit.

Harry squeaks at the first lave of Quinn's tongue down the front of his chest. "Q-quinn?" The name stammers past his lips.

A few more broad swipes of his tongue somehow manage to cover more real estate—the left nipple—and then somehow, the right one. And then there's the light rasp of teeth on the sensitive buds, coaxing them to attention.

Harry's groan is a mixture of want, need and embarrassment rolled into one. "That's—not—fair!" He gasps out, breath hitching.

It's worse, because he can see those wicked teal eyes glimmering at him from beneath the covers and that smirk on Quinn's face, right before he ducks his head.

What he does, has Harry arching upwards with a cry, his body caught between the tremors of pleasure and the inevitable lack of coordinated movement from his recovering body.

He hadn't realized how tired he'd been. Or how long it'd been since his last decent rest. Since he'd slowed down enough for it, anyway.

"Liked that?"

"Too much," Harry growls. "You're going to kill me."

"It'll be a happy death," Quinn deadpans. "Would you rather I stopped?"

"Don't you dare."

"Oho? Feeling bold, are we?"

"Don't—do—that." Harry groans again. Because Quinn's magic is sizzling on his skin and everywhere he touches is electric. It's thrice that, with Quinn's mouth on him.

"Close your eyes, Harry," Quinn hums. "Or I"ll stop."

Harry squeezes his eyes shut at once. He trembles pleasurably as Quinn works him over. Tender ministrations giving way to pure delight.

Just like his thorough healings, Quinn is equally attentive in his intimate touches.

Still, Harry finds himself unable to claim the sweet release hovering just barely out of reach. He's been brought to the edge twice and calmed back down, before he can reach completion and it's about to drive him mad.

It's when he can finally move his arms and he grabs hold of Quinn's shoulders, that the fun comes to an end.

Looking entirely too delighted, Quinn straightens up, balanced expertly over him, their bodies almost, but no longer touching.

Teal eyes stare amusedly into green ones, before Quinn sits up, carefully moving to Harry's side. The blanket slides back from his shoulders and pools around his waist.

Harry realizes the exact moment that happens, what he's done. He squeezes his eyes shut once more.

Quinn's laugh is a touch playful, but entirely unhelpful. He slides off the bed, tucking the covers more securely around Harry's shoulders, easily avoiding the half-reaching arms.

He leans close, ignoring Harry's hopeful inhale.

"…No."

"Quinn!"

"The idea is for you to rest and heal," Quinn counters. "Sex is not what you need right now."

"It's what I want!"

"Again, we don't always get what we want, but sometimes we're lucky enough to get what we need."

"I'll keep my eyes closed, promise!" Harry hesitates. "Please?"

"Rest." Comes the firm reply. "And now, at least, I know your magic is recovering nicely."

"Of course it's recovering nicely," Harry grumbles. He peeks out to the side with one open eye. Quinn is checking the potions he's setting on the nightstand.

Harry silently curses the fate that has given him a Bonded that so rarely inclined to indulge in wicked pleasures. He could, of course, call one of his other Bonded.

He can also, of course, see the truth in Quinn's words, because honestly, he's never felt so tired since his last Resting Period and it's been weeks. Thinking about it works wonders for calming him down and that leaves only a mild annoyance behind.

"Quinn?"

"No."

"…I didn't ask."

"I know what you're going to ask."

"…I didn't say it yet."

"The answer is still no."

"Not even a quick one?"

"Harry!"

"You're still mad at me, aren't you?"

"How does that even—no! I'm not mad."

"Are too."

"…Should I get something for your ears?"

"Don't want it."

"I should, you know."

"No," Harry draws the word out, much longer than it should be. "Can you at least come back?"

"Harry!" There's genuine exasperation in Quinn's magical voice now.

"I just want a cuddle…" Harry pouts. Both eyes are open now, shrewdly assessing whether he will get what he wants in the next few minutes—or not.

"You want a lot more than a cuddle and I'm not up for that at the moment."

"We could do something else." Harry offers, hopefully.

"You could rest," Quinn agrees. "You could sleep. You could actually let the salves and oils do their work. Imagine that. I think that counts as something else."

"Alright. I'll rest…" Harry wheedles. "If you give me…"

"I'm not giving you a kiss."

"Just one."

"No."

"A tiny one?"

"That's not the least bit cute."

"A really, really quick one?" and it's the way he's saying it, because Quinn wavers.

Teal eyes roll spectacularly upwards and then Quinn saunters over within reach. He leans down for the quick kiss—and catches Harry's hands before they can yank him closer.

"Sneaky," Quinn proclaims. He gently guides the half-heartedly protesting arms up and over Harry's head.

Harry's half-whine earns him no sympathy.

"I warned you," comes the fond reply. "If you can't keep your hands to yourself, I'll tie you up."

And if that doesn't make him all hot and bothered again, Harry doesn't know what will.

* * *

 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon. There's one more chapter to "Pride" and then we move on to Envy or Greed. And no, you're not getting a Harry/Quinn scene before actual Harry/Quinn has happened in the main fic. -facepalm- I just can't do it. lol. You'll have to wait until then. But yes, they are pretty much settled now. Also, who would like to catch the note that Quinn takes after his Sire, Patrick? Remember Patrick's specialty...not to be mentioned in polite company...? :P Three guesses for what Quinn does...**

 **Ahem. Harry is red in the face after reading this chapter. Quinn is calmly taking care of his everpresent paperwork. Hehehe...**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	15. Pride, Part XIII

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 ** _Context : After ol' Voldysnort is taken care of, occasionally the other Nevermore realms have a squabble or two. Sometimes, Nevareans have to fight and prominent Circles will join in a Common War Council of sorts, hashing out plans and resources that they are willing to try or agree with. The suggestions and approved actions are then escalated all the way up to the Royals' and handled accordingly. This snippet features Harry trying his 'saving people' thing again..._**

* * *

PRIDE XIII

The bedroom door snicks shut as Quinn exits, shoulders drooping behind the privacy of a wall between them now.

Harry's peacefully dozing—beautifully restrained and nicely—ah—presented.

It's half for Theo and half for Harry.

Quinn knows they need more time together and a quicker reconnection without too much awkwardness. He's felt their Bonded gradually arriving, their hard day's work over.

A faint rustle of clothe, catches his ear and he looks up in time to see Theo leaning against the wall. He doesn't have the energy to be surprised—he's been liberally feeding his magic into Harry all evening, after all.

Theo's concerned golden eyes sweep over him in a quick, methodical way. A privacy spell springs up between them and he steps forward, one hand reaching up and out.

Quinn holds himself still.

Theo's hand gently cups his cheek, smoothing over the taut skin. "You're exhausted."

Quinn shrugs, minutely. Nothing that blood, sugar and a good sleep couldn't fix. He can't help his healing gifts. Can't help that he's taken Harry's issues into his own body. Can't help that he has to help. Needs to, in the way he needs to breathe.

Theo draws him closer and Quinn leans down, forehead resting on Theo's slender shoulder.

He shudders, faintly as Theo runs a hand through his sweat-soaked hair.

"Get some rest, alright?" Theo murmurs.

Quinn grunts in answer, straightening up in time to be pulled into a hug hard enough to hurt. It squeezes the breath from his chest and he freezes.

Theo's fangs scrape lightly over his Claim mark and he gasps, feeling the bond singing with renewed strength and sensitivity.

"I mean it," Theo murmurs, releasing him after a long minute. "Sleep. Do you need blood?" He asks, because he's Theo. Because he's forever polite.

Quinn shakes his head. He knows there's only a few Bonded he can drink from—and still maintain his Healer's status. Theo is one of them, but Quinn can read the stress and tiredness in the darkness under his eyes.

Mount Valeraine must've been awful.

Theo pinches him for the lie, but allows it. He knows Quinn will find one of his Bonded to make up for it. "Sleep then." He nudges him towards the far end of the hall, where they all have their bedrooms.

"Harry's in there," Quinn says, because he can't help himself.

Theo pauses in mid-reach for the doorknob of his bedroom.

Whether for the voice spell or the admission, Quinn can't tell. He waits, with bated breath.

Theo turns the knob and pushes the door open. He stares at the vision that greets him for a full minute, before he reaches out and pulls the door shut.

For a split-second, Quinn wonders if his Alpha is actually _blushing_ , because that isn't something he thinks he's ever actually _seen_. But then Theo is staring at him with sudden intensity and it makes him squirm.

"I could kiss you right now," Theo says, matter-of-factly. "If you'd let me."

Quinn swallows. Mouth dry. "I'd let you." His traitor mouth betrays.

"Good." Theo mutters.

And then he's pinned up against the wall, knees week, Theo's hand in his hair and his mouth being ravished by lips that taste like fire and smoke, yet still, Theo.

When they break apart, Theo's panting softly and Quinn has to blink in order to see straight.

He licks his lips and tries to stand, a bit shakily. "I'll have to leave you more surprises." He says, voice hoarse.

Theo snorts. "You leave beautiful handiwork," he says. And then he's gone, the hallway empty. Retreating to the vision of a bound and slowly waking Harry, because Quinn knows how to tie those velvet cords and the sleep spell was only meant to last a few minutes at most.

Quinn stands there, lingering a moment longer. Because now, he kind of wants, a little bit. But not enough to bother about it.

He's tempted to return to his Healer's exam room, but Theo's words echo in his head. He knows Theo won't be happy if he ventures back there to waste away the night hours—instead of sleeping.

And he does need to sleep anyway.

Sleep is important.

Considering his current state.

He sighs and slowly picks his way down the hall. He passes several locked bedroom doors, pausing near the end, before his frustration gets the better of him.

He taps on the door and slips inside at the murmured answer.

Ethan is sitting up in bed, a mystery novel in hand, a glass of cinnamon milk in the other. He looks up at Quinn's entry and softens. He'd been up to greet his Bonded as they'd arrived, ushering them off to showers and keeping them quiet, so Harry and Quinn would have the time they needed together.

He can tell that it's worked, because the shadow that has lingered over Quinn's face for the past few days, has vanished. Now, he only looks bone-tired and soul-weary.

Not exactly an improvement, but nothing, Ethan is sure, that a few cuddles and some blood can't fix. At least, that's what he an offer now.

And maybe his cinnamon milk. He does like it after all.

But Quinn's still hovering near the door as if he's unsure as to whether he should stay or leave.

Ha.

There is no way Ethan will leave him to his own devices. Not now. So he speaks. "Did you make up?"

Quinn's expression says a hundred things at once and words seem stuck. "Theo's back. I just—" he stops, looking a bit distressed

"Turn it off," Ethan says, setting the glass on the nightstand. He's never liked that artificial spell in the first place and he knows it irritates Quinn's throat something awful the next day. He places a marker in the book and sets it beside the glass. "And come here." He lifts the covers on the opposite side of the bed and pats at it, invitingly.

Quinn slumps. He undos the spell with a careless twitch of his fingers and all but stumbles around to the other side of the bed.

He turns his back to Ethan, face warm, even as the soft covers are pulled up to his shoulder and settled there.

Ethan's hand lingers on his arm, patting gently, soothingly. Before he switches the lights out and settles down beside him.

Silence.

More silence.

"Quinn." Ethan says, simply.

And there's a huff, a faint click of tongue against teeth, before Quinn turns in the bed, to face him.

Ethan smiles in the darkness and reaches out, wrapping himself around Quinn's warmth and pulling his head down to his throat. "You need to feed," he said, hearing the quiet hitch of breath. "Go on."

Quinn trembles for a moment, then accepts. His fangs slip easily into the softness of Ethan's neck and he's drinking greedily several minutes later.

"Did you make up then?" Ethan asks, carding a hand through Quinn's hair. He can feel the tremors settling and Quinn relaxing. That's good. It means everything is fine.

 _…Yeah. We did. He's a brat._

Ethan tries not to smile and jostle their position. He likes having Quinn in his arms. "Yeah. But he's our brat."

Quinn pulls away to laugh in his usual, silent way.

Ethan follows him, nuzzling his cheek and pushing his magic into him. He feels the instant acceptance and settles, comfortably, knowing that they will be alright, after all.

* * *

 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon. HAPPY NEW YEAR, YOU GUYS! I hope it was a fabulou start already. I need to get to bed. lol. but I had to post this. So yes, this is the end of Pride. How'd you like that? and no, Quinn's just with Ethan bc he wants cuddles. Ethan is happy to oblige and he also keeps his blood clean to be an availabe source for Quinn, when both Harry and Theo are otherwise unavailable or having potions, etc. in them.** **:P**

 **Harry has waved in the new year with a lot of confetti. The twins and Ethan are not really helping with the clean up. They are actually all sleeping a great big dogpile. :P**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	16. Greed, Part I

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 ** _Context : Still in Emerald Hollow and featuring a bit of a lull between the episode with the common war council and Theo's "fix"._**

* * *

GREED, I

It's not that he doesn't have enough, because Arielle help him, he _does_ and it's _still_ not enough.

Harry carefully ties the Christmas ornament to the massive tree that is swallowing up a whole quarter section of their living room.

It looks as if it's about to break—but he knows the spells cast on the branches—and the ornaments—will keep that from happening.

He can't help it.

The more there are, the prettier it looks.

From glittering fairy lights to the preserved strands of frosted cranberries and the dozens of handprinted glass baubles dripping from each perfect limb.

Fred lies on the floor, poking at George's head—currently pillowed on his stomach. "Har—I think if you put anymore on there, the charms will break."

There's a snort of disbelief as Harry plucks yet another ornament from the plastic crate at his feet and painstakingly threads another glittery ribbon through the loop at the top.

"If the charms break, it's because you weren't paying attention," George mumbles, sleepily. "You said you'd handle it."

Fred pokes him again—harder—for that comment, but tries to swallow down his worry. He's pretty sure that he cast the right enchantments.

Reasonably sure, anyway.

He just might have forgotten Harry's obsessiveness with Christmas and decorating. Specifically, the rare glass ornaments that he's been picking up this year.

George mumbles something in answer, because he doesn't like being poked, but he's currently getting the cuddle he wants, so he'll put up with it.

Fred mentally backtracks over the spell and hopes that he's put enough power behind it. After a moment, the worry passes. He can always strengthen the charms later.

Much later.

He pokes George again.

It earns him a bite to the finger and then Quinn's annoyed click from the settee.

Fred wrinkles his nose, but George understands. It takes half a seconds before his twin is comfortably cuddled up to Quinn and his paperwork.

Quinn likes cuddling and being cuddled in turn. George is somewhere in the middle of that spectrum and right now, Quinn is a welcome snugglefluff.

Harry continues in his happy decorating, giddy with excitement, when a cautious Theo pokes his head through the doorway.

"That's—a lot of ornaments," Theo comments, at last.

Harry pouts, adorably.

"Are you sure the tree's big enough?" Theo is frowning at the ceiling. "Probably could have fit another foot or two without-"

"I like it," Harry says, happily. He scampers over for a kiss and a hug, followed by the expected sip of peppermint spiced cocoa from Theo's oversized coffee mug. "I'm theming it too, see from the bottom?"

And Theo looks.

It takes almost a half-hour for Harry to explain the theory behind his decorating and the story he's trying to tell. He's very proud of it.

Watching him and seeing the way his emerald eyes glow from sheer happiness, Theo hides a smile and drinks half of his cocoa.

He hands off the half-empty cup and kisses Harry's cheek. "I'm going up for tonight. Lots to do tomorrow. Take your time and tell me all about it in the morning, alright?"

A sweet, minty-chocolate kiss seals the deal.

Fred watches Theo disappear through the doorway. If Theo is on his way up, then it means that Charlie will follow and—oh yes, right on cue.

Charlie pokes his head through the door, toweling off his tricolor hair. He smells fresh and clean, not like the usual tinge of smoke that tends to cling to him, thanks to his element.

"Ohhh—nice," he comments, crossing over to stand behind Harry. "Need help?"

Harry thinks about it for all of five seconds, then shrugs. "No. I'll do the rest of it tomorrow. I think. You're going in?"

"Yeah. Long day." Charlie drops a kiss on Harry's upturned cheek. "See you soon?"

"Mhmm." Harry hums, taking a sip of cocoa instead. He waves Charlie off and returns to attempting to one-handedly thread a ribbon through another ornament.

After six failed tries, Fred can't bear it and he rouses himself enough to help. He has a feeling that Harry doesn't really want him to hang ornaments on the tree—he's been turning down all of their offers for help—he just wants someone to hold the cocoa.

Sure enough, when he's within range, Harry hands the cup over to him. "Don't drink it," he warns, before holding the end of the ribbon between his lips and measuring at an invisible mark, before cutting said ribbon.

Fred merely sighs, easing down to sit cross legged on the floor, the mug balanced on one knee, curiosity settling over him. "I can cut that for you-" he starts and stops.

Harry has efficiently moved on and is already on the second ornament.

He can't see a rhyme or reason to Harry's method, so Fred is stuck watching. He watches and watches and watches until his eyelids are drooping and his body reminds him that he's tried.

Quinn and George are the next ones to leave for the lure of their shared bed. The temperature drops a bit as the nighttime chill creeps into the air.

Harry is still charging full-steam ahead and Fred wonders how much sugar his lovely submissive has consumed.

Then he realizes the sickeningly sweet chocolate scent from the peppermint cocoa really isn't helping the situation much.

He cautiously raises the mug to his lips—and after no reaction from Harry, manages to drink it all. It's when he's setting it back on the floor, that it garners a reaction.

"Fred…" Harry pauses to glance over one shoulder and there's a certain sharpness that wasn't there before. "Did you just drink my cocoa?"

"Technically it's Theo's."

"Fred!"

"It was getting cold!"

"You're a fire element." Harry counters.

"You had three already today."

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Harry's eyes glitter dangerously.

"You've been eating sugar cookies, caramel popcorn and peppermint cocoa—all day." Fred throws back. He knows that he's being a bit desperate here, but Harry _has_ been stuffing himself with holiday treats and he doesn't want to remember the last time Harry had a sugar high.

He shudders, violently.

Correction. He does remember the last time Harry had a sugar high _and_ Merrow blood.

It wasn't a good combination.

For his Bonded.

Harry huffs. "Whatever you're thinking about stop it," he scolds, flicking Fred lightly on the head. "Fine. Call it night—and tomorrow you owe me a cocoa."

"It was Theo's!"

"Don't quibble with me."

"…Har-ry."

"Shush." Harry tugs him up to his feet and waves a hand at the tree.

Fred pouts.

Harry pulls him close for a kiss.

The pout fades.

Harry's smirk is a dangerous prelude and one kiss swiftly leads to other things.

* * *

 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon. I said the next one would be silly. Like, ridiculously silly. It is. Seriously. Just the thought of Harry happily fussing over a massive collection of Christmas ornaments starts the giggles...ahem. Anyway. Enjoy.**

 **Harry is carefully stashing all of his precious ornaments into neatly partioned and spelled boxes, so they will be safe. Charlie is waiting patiently to float them up to the attic until next year. :P**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	17. Greed, Part II

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 ** _Context : Still in Emerald Hollow and featuring a bit of a lull between the episode with the common war council and Theo's "fix"._**

* * *

GREED, II

There's a problem the next morning.

Harry knows this in the way that Fred is hovering anxiously at the foot of the stairs, looking pale and worried and all out of sorts.

Fred is wearing Charlie's dressing robe, which means Harry had to wear Theo's—because Arielle help them, they can never find their own. But that's of little consequence considering the first words that jump from Fred's mouth.

"I'm sorry, please don't be mad!"

It doesn't miss Harry's notice that Fred is kind of sort of hiding a bit behind Charlie.

A detail that is odd, because Charlie is shirt-less and he looks as if he's only just woken up—unprotesting as Fred manhandles him down the hallway.

It's George's worried look from behind his twin that lets Harry know something is up.

He wonders if they've blown up the kitchen again. He kind of hopes not, because that always starts Quinn off and he's been trying really hard to be extra nice to Quinn lately. His darling Healer who is looking worse from the physical distress and stress of each necessary healing after each returned Bonded from the constant trips to and from Mt. Valeraine.

The conflict is growing worse and Harry doesn't want to contemplate how this will turn out just yet. He trusts Theo though and in turn, that filters down to his Bonded.

If they are needed for more than what they are already giving, then they'll step things up. But for now, he's free to enjoy his holiday.

So he's thrown himself into the preparations with something of a vengeance, because, Arielle, he needs to focus on something. Anything other than more things that will get him in trouble.

Harry shakes his head. He needs to focus. Silly baby. It's always making his thoughts scatter in a million different paths these days.

Kitchen. Right. Meltdowns, Harry thinks. Surely the kitchen is still standing. He couldn't have slept through a possible explosion.

Correction, Quinn wouldn't have slept through a possible explosion—and Ethan, for that matter. Harry sighs.

He's really starting to wonder about that, because surely there is enough logic in there to out-Weasley the troublemaker in them?

Ah, but he'll have to think of that later. Much later.

Now, Charlie pulls free of Fred's frantic hands and shuffles the rest of the way on his own. He's picking up on their anxiousness and it's kicking his Beta instincts into gear.

Whatever it is, he's already preparing to play mediator—or referee!

Harry trots on down the hall as the twins lead him into the sitting room. He tries not to notice that Charlie is hovering, hanging back just enough to be sure that he's close by for whatever reaction they are all anticipating.

They're all looking rather grim and serious, sending Harry's empathy into delightfully confusing spirals of uncertainty, but he's game enough to pretend that everything's still alright.

At least for another minute.

It takes a split-second to see what's happened.

Harry stands at the entrance to the living room, staring at the wreck that glitters back at him. Everything is broken, shattered—and draped over each other.

It looks like the tree exploded.

There are more pieces than actual items and something inside of him twists a bit too deeply.

Harry sucks in a breath, hands clenching at his sides. He can understand his Bonded's worried expressions, because honestly, the pregnancy does give him terrible mood swings and really, it's nothing for him to worry about, except that oh—oh—yes. He's going to be mad. He can't help it. The anger is flooding through him already.

Ugh. Harry mentally swallows the growl, as his instinctive hackles ripple to the surface. He hopes this is fixable.

"Charlie." The name is ground out.

His Beta shuffles closer, albeit a tad wearily. "Yes?"

"I want Theo."

Charlie nods and vanishes before Harry can add anything to that.

George slips around Harry's left and Fred takes Harry's right. Both are cautiously projecting identical waves of calmness through their respective bonds.

"Harry? It was like this when we came down. I-I don't know what happened."

Fred looks pained as if he doesn't want to say something, but when George pokes him, he clears his throat and tries again.

"W-we tried a reparo—several different variations, actually. It's not working. The magics are too um, intertwined."

"Magic?" Harry repeats. Because he knows charms. Takes after his Mum that way, really. They shouldn't have weird effects if they mingle—really.

Fred turns as red as his hair and that's a fairly impressive sight to see. "Harry," his voice is a half-whisper. "The charms and our— _night_."

Harry stares at him, connecting the dots belatedly. Oh _Arielle,_ save them.

Yes, his magic has been getting out of hand since the pregnancy, but honestly-! Then again, sex in front of the Christmas tree had led to a rather delightful, magical conclusion for both of them.

He'd been more than satisfied when they'd finally gone upstairs. Not to mention it was rare at times to have Fred all to himself and so he'd indulged, not to mention it had been a good way to burn off excess calories…

Harry rubs his head.

George takes over for him, a heartbeat later. His slender fingers are good at massaging Harry's temples and it helps, just a teeny bit.

His ruffled temper is calming as quickly as its flared and Harry's secretly a bit relieved. Anger is easier to handle than tears. He's tired of crying. Both make his head hurt, but George has gotten better at this—and Harry almost purrs.

The happy moment is interrupted by the flickering presence of his Alpha—solidifying with a transport spell in the midst of the ruined room.

Charlie's on his way back down the stairs, Harry can sense that, so his darling Theo has actually 'ported straight on down to see what was the matter.

That's—nice, Harry thinks, doubly flattered now and starting to recover his good humors.

"Harry?" Theo prompts.

Harry sucks on his lower lip, thinking carefully. He wants a new tree. And new ornaments.

A _lot_ more ornaments.

* * *

 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon. The continuity in this needs more work than my exhausted brain can give it right now. I apologize in advance. I'm mostly cleaning typos and tense issues, before posting. I'm currently watching snow fall over here. We're to get 8 inches tonight. Yikes. Y'all stay safe and warm if it's snowing in your corner of the world. :)**

 **Harry is relaxing on the stairs as he watches Charlie float the filled ornament boxes and Christmas things up the stairs and to the attic. He's admiring Charlie's spellwork and his fine figure. :P**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	18. Greed, Part III

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 ** _Context : Still in Emerald Hollow and featuring a bit of a lull between the episode with the common war council and Theo's "fix"._**

* * *

GREED, III

So, they're shopping.

Specifically, Harry and Fred.

Fred is not sure about this, but Harry is. There's a lot of things he wants to get and there's at least three department stores that will have what he wants.

Harry's sort of happy, because while he will miss the old ornaments, the thrill of choosing new ones is easily overwriting it.

They are so lovely after all.

Every shade of color known in varying hues of vibrance, with the added bonus of pictures, glitter or intricate patterns.

Lovely, lovely, lovely.

George and Ethan have begged off of the shopping trip in favor of cleaning up the ruined room. The rest of their Bonded are sort of pitching in—though Ethan's brisk commands are actually helping the most, because any sort of magic has made the mess worse.

Theo's reaction was one of rather admirable maturity. He'd surveyed the room, shook his head, clucked his tongue and bundled Harry off to the kitchen.

Perfectly willing to be pampered and soothed, Harry had sailed off with Theo's arm wrapped around his shoulders—oblivious to the very pointed look their Alpha threw over his shoulder.

The Look that had George scrambling to wake up Ethan and Charlie hurriedly spelling himself into day clothes. Having Harry out of the house means they'll have time to clean.

Merlin knows that Harry's been a stickler for cleanliness lately. He prefers things to be put in certain places and while Quinn and Ethan's semi-neat-freak habits have managed to curb the worst of their haphazard habits, it helps to keep things in line.

At least, given that Theo is more meticulous than the two of them put together and Hadrian, their idiot of an Ace, can be bothered to make their Gheyos pitch in as well.

Still—too much thinking. Fred shakes his head, vowing not to dwell on that mess just yet. There's too much that can go wrong there and for goodness' sake, he just don't want to think about it.

There are more pressing problems right now, after all. The shopping trip has left him feeling like a stern parent with a far too precocious child.

Fred doesn't realize just how off everything is until he sees the shopping cart turning a bit too overflowing. He's not sure whether he ought to try magicking it to stay safe.

"Uh, Harry?" He tries, when the cart has become a bit too precarious to be wrestling it through the flow of holiday shoppers.

His beloved Harry is busy scampering through the store, flitting from one beautifully decorated display to another. It's almost as if he's taking notes and his eyes are fairly glowing.

Fred stifles a groan. Harry looks so happy right now, he's loathe to do anything to change that. Even if he has the sneaking suspicion that Harry has heard him and is opting to pretend he hasn't.

"Harry?" Fred calls again.

There's still no answer, but he can see the fluffy green hat perched atop Harry's head, bobbing in the sea of other holiday customers somewhere ahead of them. Given the present circumstances, he's fairly certain he'll feel like a heel for doing this, but honestly—it'll be worse if he loses him. Correction, he'll never hear the end of it.

"Harry!" Fred gives a sharp tug on their bond, when he's within hearing distance once more. The newly protectively charmed shopping cart is sort of not-floating along behind him, while gently shuffling unsuspecting shoppers out of his not-quite-a-warpath.

Harry turns at once, an innocent look on his face, a box of four peppermint candy cane striped baubles in hand. He gives a teasing pull at Fred's bond in answer—and there's a sudden influx of joyousness that accompanies it.

"Harry, no!" Fred maneuvers the cart closer and tries to pretend that the happy burst of emotions hasn't all-but-nearly turned him into a puddle. He can't afford to be a puddle now. Puddles can't push shopping carts or reason with unreasonable Bondeds. "You have more than enough to replace the others—and I don't even know if we have room for the rest of these."

Harry beams at him, looking a bit too happy for Fred to actually relax. "Don't worry. We have room."

Now he's worrying, Fred reflects. Now he's really about to worry in _earnest_. Ethan will kill him—twice—if he lets Harry show up with this massive shopping haul. "Er—it's not the room, Harry, we—uh—we really don't _need_ more."

"That's alright, it's only a Limited edition," Harry says, holding the box up to his face. He's still smiling, but there's a hint of wicked mischief lurking in the corners.

And before he even answers, before he thinks about what their Bonded will say—Fred knows he's going to cave. It's a lost cause after all, especially when it comes to that face.

"Har-ry." It's a token protest.

"Fr-ed," Harry hums in answer. He calmly balances the box atop the impressive stack in the shopping cart. "I guess we can go. That's about all I've found here."

* * *

Two more department stores later, Fred is absolutely sure that _Theo_ is going to kill him now. Never mind, Ethan, George or the rest of their respective Bonded.

It seems that Harry's comment had been for the first department store.

And only that department store.

Apparently there are rules for each store.

For the moment, Fred is lucky. Harry has been sufficiently distracted by the promise of a Cinnamon spiced hot chocolate—content to give up his ornament hunt in favor of consumable treats.

It doesn't help that he grandly announces that he'll accept cinnamon hot chocolate in lieu of the peppermint one from the previous night.

Fred silently sends a prayer upwards to any benevolent deity that may care to have pity on him. The Christmas account that Theo gave them access to, is practically empty. Fred's sinking feeling that they weren't supposed to buy only ornaments, is doubling by the second and tripling, the longer he thinks about it.

Perhaps there's a hole he can hide in—when they return. Harry, he's sure, will manage to skate off, scot-free from this little shopping excursion.

He's already shrunk and shrunken the already miniature items at least twice and he's had to cast a featherlight charm already.

This is the first year he can recall that they've had a dedicated Christmas account for holiday expenses and oh Merlin, Theo is _definitely_ going to kill him for this!

* * *

 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon. Welp-got all 8 inches and then some on my end. but the sun is out now, so I guess it'll set to melting. I warned you about the silliness. I DID WARN YOU. :P Glad you're enjoying Harry's flights of fancy here. Poor Fred. Bwhahaha!**

 **Harry and Charlie are reporting to the kitchen for tasty treats for a job well done. Ethan and Quinn are cleaning and cooking in tandem-specifically, Ethan is cleaning up while Quinn is finishing their lunchtime fare. :P**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	19. Greed, Part IV

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 ** _Context : Still in Emerald Hollow and featuring a bit of a lull between the episode with the common war council and Theo's "fix"._**

* * *

GREED, IV

Theo doesn't say anything.

Fred admires his restraint, though he does catch the briefly raised eyebrow in silent question when Harry hands over the receipts. Fred can't quite answer that, because—it's complicated, alright? Please don't make him answer it.

Thankfully, his silent plea—is granted, because Theo's sharp-eyed gaze skims over him and rests instead, on his animated Submissive.

Harry happily chirps about the color schemes and sizes, going on about how he can't wait to set everything up. He's back to his cheerful little self, if only a bit hyped up on sugar. Maybe too much sugar.

They've gotten a new tree—as there was nothing, save for a few pine needles—left of the old one. The Gheyos are setting it up in the living room, but this time, Hadrian is handling the spellwork.

His magic is probably the best for this particular job, to be strong and nearly invisible is his trademark. Fred is somewhat relieved—even if he could do without the pinch to his arse every time said ACE passes by his corner.

He has a feeling it won't be Theo owning his arse tonight—but rather Hadrian. Not that he's complaining, because either one of them would be fine. Theo wouldn't exactly ream him out for the incident, but he'll probably make sure that Fred is properly educated.

Very properly educated.

Fred stifles a groan. Inwardly, he's an embarrassed muddle, because a night with either of them—to himself—is good, no matter what the circumstances, but on the other hand. He'd really like to walk tomorrow…and he knows better than to think those are innocent looks.

In the end, Ethan and George take over and Fred is allowed a chance to manfully retreat—away from Theo's glittering golden gaze and Charlie's laughing blue eyes.

He doesn't see Hadrian anywhere and his heart sinks. He'd been hoping to cash in on that spark of interest. Charlie's probably the one who'll get laid tonight.

Lucky Charlie.

Lucky Harry, even, who has taken to enjoying the respective 'shows' put on for him, when he's not in the mood to participate.

Fred's groan of despair is half swallowed by the unexpected kiss from Hadrian, who has somehow managed to follow him—and effectively surprise him.

Fred sputters a bit when they part, but the token is more than mere affection, it's an actual comfort and he's feeling all out of sorts, so why not?

Hadrian smiles and pulls him even closer as Fred turns in his arms to be properly held. There's humor dancing in his knowing gaze and he nuzzles at Fred's neck, inhaling deeply. "Exhausting day?" the question is innocent.

There's no immediate answer, because Fred's currently returning to that puddle-state from earlier. Hadrian's large mouth working gently on the claim mark on his neck, is _doing_ very _good_ things to him right now and speech is a bit slow in coming.

It doesn't help that he can feel the rasp of Hadrian's five-o-clock shadow against the dampness of his neck or the deliberately dull bite over said claim mark.

 _Nice._ Fred thinks and melts. He can feel the elemental swarm of flames inside of him, banking up to a near unbearable heat—he wants this, thank you very much.

He lets himself be walked down the hall and around the corner to where Hadrian's bedroom is. "Very," he says, when his mouth finally catches up to where his brain has already been. He's unresisting when he's all but pinned up against the wall, the moment Hadrian's bedroom door closes behind them. "So—very—ugh." He trembles beneath the large, warm hands that roam his body.

"Ethan and George will distract him a bit." Hadrian hums. Because he does know Harry and he's been around pregnant Submissives before—there's very little reasoning with them, when they're in a mood.

He's learned that much and is patiently waiting for the rest of his Bonded to pick up on it—as Theo and Wikhn have. Ethan's a close match, but he's assuming a role like Quinn—the indulgent lover, who will hold his tongue—but remain firm and steadfast.

It's no wonder that Harry listens to them, while cheerfully ignoring certain others. He's testing new boundaries and they are all readjusting right along with him.

Fred, on the other hand, has felt remarkably slow as their Circle shifts and matures.

"Why's he all—that?" Fred pants. Because honestly, it's hard to breathe here and he doesn't want Hadrian to actually stop and _talk_.

"Pregnant," Hadrian answers, kissing him silent for a minute. "Every submissive is different. They do different things to help them settle. In their mind, everything needs to be a certain way or else they aren't sufficiently prepared for the baby."

Fred's brown eyes grow wide in mingled understanding and horror. He connects the dragel dots in a way that only his human mind can comprehend. "He's—he's _nesting_?"

Hadrian laughs and pulls him away from the door, nudging him towards the bed, pleased when Fred follows his directing. "Don't let him hear you call it that, but no. More accurately, he's _fussing._ All Submissives do that—albeit in strange ways."

"That's not a—ahh!" Fred yelps as he's tackled—gently—to the bed. He squirms a bit, but Hadrian is heavier than he looks and Fred is most certainly well pinned. He struggles again—for the principle of it—and then relaxes. He does want to be here, after all.

"Haven't you watched him?" Hadrian asks. He starts with the buttons on Fred's shirt. "He's making sure the house looks stunning for the baby and he's keeping it clean because it's something that he can do on his own."

"B-but it's not even here—yet—ah!" Fred gasps, because really where _is_ Hadrian putting his hands?!

Hadrian chuckles, darkly. He's enjoying Fred's reactions—as the more expressive one of their respective Pareya. "That's not the point. He's running on instinct."

"But—ah—he's never—ohhh—cared about—ah— _Hadrian_!" Fred gasps out. He pushes ineffectively at the sturdy shoulders looming over him, because pulling at them would mean more than he's willing to admit to himself right now.

"He cares about it now," Hadrian explains. "Since he knows the rest of you all take care of the house—even the cleaning—he's doing what you all don't. Decorating."

"The ornaments?" Fred tries, weakly. He squirms again, but it's rather half-hearted. Because really, who is he trying to convince, anyway?

Hadrian banishes his trousers, cupping Fred through his pants. "He likes them. He's a dragel. We like pretty, shiny things."

Fred shudders at the warmth and roughness fondling him. He relaxes into the hands holding him.

Right.

Well, he might be the exception to that, he thinks, reaching up to loop an arm around Hadrian's neck. He doesn't care much for shiny, pretty things—then again—his Bonded have always been rather easy on the eyes…

The kiss that follows that thought is rather sloppy and wet, but Fred doesn't care.

It's perfect for them.

* * *

 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon. Ahaha-oh Fred, Fred, Fred. :P So pretty and SHINY. This chapter was fun to write. There's two more pieces to this one, I think-need to section it off. Worked on Ch 101 a bit yday-about 7k-ish written. -humming-**

 **Harry enjoyed his lunch, curled up on the back patio on a pile of fluffy pillows, with his Bonded scattered around him, everyone eating and talking and swiping food of each other's plates. Except for Quinn's plate. :P**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	20. Greed, Part V

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 ** _Context : Still in Emerald Hollow and featuring a bit of a lull between the episode with the common war council and Theo's "fix"._**

* * *

GREED, V

The next morning begins with Theo standing in the middle of the 'decorated' room, his cup of coffee halfway gone. He's surveying the room and Harry's handiwork, but there's a slight twitch of his lips that betrays an emotion neither of his bonded are willing to read.

Charlie is the first one to venture forth, because he is the Beta and Theo occasionally confides in him from time to time on a fairly semi-regularly basis. More so, at least, whenever it's actually necessary. Charlie knows that Theo's mind is a mystery and will forever be a mystery. He's well aware that he he will never fully know what goes on behind those golden orbs. But he trusts him in the way that they've grown together, learning a language all their own.

"Theo?" He hums.

"Charlie." Theo turns at once and they greet each other with the usual kisses.

Charlie smelling of smoke and Theo tasting of coffee. One of Charlie's long arms drops on Theo's shoulder, curving around to a not-quite-embrace.

Theo allows it without any protest, content in the affection and comfort it conveys.

"It's nice," Charlie offers, at last. There's not much he can say to this point. There's nothing _safe_ he can say about it, anyway.

Every single available surface of the room has been properly decorated with an ornament. Save for the floor and the ceiling, there are no uncovered—er—undecorated spaces available.

Whether this is the work of a sugar-hyped, determined Harry or if it's simply his instincts at work, Charlie doesn't know. He can't begin to imagine what it must've taken to cover the room so— _thoroughly_.

Theo bursts into laughter—or at least, as much as he will allow himself these days. "It's hideous," he corrects, merriment dancing in his gaze. It's blinding, really, is what it is.

As a creature of habit, there are habits that Theo dearly loves to perform in succession—specifically, a daily routine that keeps his good humors on an even keel.

He normally reads his paper in the corner, on the two-seater by the window, and drinks one cup of coffee with his two pieces of half-buttered toast every morning.

But today, he's abstained and is, instead, standing and studying the chaotically decorated mess in front of him. It's a bit unnerving to be sitting or standing in the midst of a chrome-bubble, multicolored ornamented living room. It's too bright, too shiny and too—something.

He couldn't, for the sake of his stomach, bring himself to consider food when the sight was so—unexpected—that he was otherwise compelled to handle that first.

Harry, then breakfast.

Maybe.

"Harry likes it." Charlie reminds him, but the answer sounds weak, even to his ears. He can't think of anything to say to Theo on this issue.

This is 'a bit much' in so many ways. He wonders how he'll be able to avoid the room without rousing Harry's suspicions, because there's _no way_ he can stand to sit here. He actually doesn't know how Theo's been able to stand here for longer than few seconds, Arielle knows his Alpha can be ridiculously sensitive about certain things.

A slight chill washes over him and for a moment, Charlie's frozen. He doesn't want to look down, but he can't help himself and he does—even as he's almost certain he knows what Theo looks like at this point.

Theo only smirks.

Charlie shivers. He hasn't seen _that_ expression in a long while and he has a feeling he doesn't want to know what scheme Theo has come up with. He only knows that he'll have to endure the current room until Harry is awake.

From there, Charlie is fairly certain that Theo will find a way to return it to normal standards.

At least, to a point where the ornaments are on the tree.

And only the tree.

* * *

They all find out when Theo joins them in the living room again, because they are all there. Avoiding the room will make Harry suspicious and no one wants to be the one to explain that there's too much—stuff—in there.

Harry enters the room, making a beeline for a calm and steady Theo who is still sipping on his coffee. "Theo! D'you like it?"

Theo's smile is brilliant. "I love it, treasure," he says, drawing Harry down to sit beside him. "It's very bright and shiny. Did you stay up all night to that?"

"Nope! I used magic." Harry beams. "It's working now. I didn't have any trouble. I still have more to put up, though, but I wasn't sure about putting them on the ceiling."

Theo's expression is hidden in his coffee mug.

Charlie dares to speak. "…The ceiling?"

"Yeah!" Harry squints up at the blank canvas. "I guess it wouldn't work though, right?"

And Charlie can't answer that. He looks to Theo, silently willing him to answer this one.

"Depends," Theo allows. "I don't see the rest of it though."

"The rest?" Harry stares, comically.

"Well, the account I gave you yesterday was also for procuring presents for goodwill in additional to our expected holiday expenses. Social duty. The presents we're going to owe everyone this season." He clarifies at Harry's confusion.

"W-wait—p-presents?" Harry looks like a deer caught in the headlights. He's mentally flip-flopping between the decorated delight in front of him and the awful thought of not buying any nice presents for his new friends.

Sure, some of the ornaments were on sale, but most of them were expensive and handcrafted or mage-wrought and he's starting to wish he'd paid a bit more attention.

Theo nods, solemnly—but trustingly. "I was balancing the account this morning and I didn't see any wrapping paper on there. Or ribbons. Did we have that much left over from last year or are we waiting for more things to arrive?"

Fred can see the moment when Harry's calmness evaporates to the panic he's suffered through, since yesterday. He can't find the energy to dredge up any sympathy, because Hadrian was very thorough and he's feeling relieved just to be standing on his own two feet.

Hadrian—smirking—stands behind Fred, bracing him gently, amusement masked in his grave expression. He's been wondering how their little Alpha will handle this and he's finding that healthy respect, renewed several times over.

A tiny squeak is all that escapes as Harry pulls away from Theo, emerald eyes wide and worried.

"Harry?" Theo's voice is infinitely soft. "Is everything alright?"

Harry flaps a hand at him, because it's fine. Really. Sort of. But not really. He can't speak yet, because his mind is preoccupied and he's trying to remember what he did last year. He doesn't dare ask to change the budget—because he was the one who planned it out last year and he's fairly certain Theo won't let him forget that.

Arielle—he's got to fix this—fast!

* * *

 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon. For anyone that didn't catch the note about Quinn and his Sire, Patrick-it was a nod back to the convo when he was first introduced and Hiram is about to reveal Patrick's specialty and he interrupts with "it's is not for polite company". It's a nod to the fact that Patrick is a Certified Sex Therapist (his branch of healing) and has specialized in certain things, like Rope Bondage, Bloodplay and Fireplay. Patrick was reading Harry's past medical history and realized that he was from "earth" and might not be as open-minded as the dragels, so he'd cut it off, to avoid making him uncomfortable. He'll mention it later on, once he has a better "feel" on Harry. This also explains why Patrick has been off on private business for some time.**

 **Quinn, in an effort to be closer to his Sire, got certified for Rope Bondage, never really intending to use it...y'all can fill in the blank from there, I'm sure. :P**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	21. Greed, Part VI

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 ** _Context : Still in Emerald Hollow and featuring a bit of a lull between the episode with the common war council and Theo's "fix"._**

* * *

GREED, VI

"I've got to do something," Harry wails, sitting before the Christmas tree, tugging at his messy hair. He turns his panicked gaze on Charlie.

Theo has retreated for the time being, to the privacy of his study and a sudden air-wave long-distance call. There's something happening over on Mt. Valeraine and he needs to tend to it.

Harry's not surprised to find his Bonded scattering almost at once, at Theo's departure. He knows the call means that they'll most likely be required to start moving—soon.

He worries for his twins and Charlie, but that worry is somewhat overridden by the singular detail of what Theo has only just mentioned.

"Charlie—help!" He pleads.

"For?" Charlie prompts, cautiously approaching.

"I didn't know it was that much!" and Harry knows he's dangerously close to whining, but he's temporarily at a loss here. Honestly, he hadn't thought it would come up to that much, but he hadn't really been paying attention either.

"We're always on a budget," Charlie counters, because they are. It's a good habit to live within their means and save for the expansion of their Circle in terms of future offspring or career changes. "And you usually do track this, Harry."

Harry pouts, because he was kind of hoping no one else had noticed that detail. Never mind that Charlie is right and that he _does_ usually keep track of this. He'd just been—excited. "I didn't think about presents," he says, annoyed with himself. "I was thinking of—the replacements."

"You weren't paying attention," Charlie says, lightly. He knows his guess is correct when Harry begins to blush. "And you were a bit carried away, weren't you?"

"Erm—I tried?" Harry falters when he sees the semi-stern look on his Beta's face. "Charlie, that's not fair! I was going to replace things. I wasn't counting on wrapping paper and ribbons and—and _gifts!_ "

"Replacement or not, you have to watch out for these sorts of things." Charlie sighs. He ruffles his hair, tugging at the ends, as if he can't make up his mind what he wants to say. "Besides, I thought you were the one that came up with this. You told Theo it was a good idea to have a separate holiday fund." Charlie scratches his head, as an awful realization dawns. He's been kind of hoping, thinking that perhaps, somehow, it was an exaggeration, because really—it's not like—and the knut drops.

"Harry—you didn't—really—all of it?"

Harry gulps.

Charlie winces. There's only a couple of options then. "You can return some of those, can't you?"

Harry whines.

* * *

The next morning, the entire living room is stripped down.

The tree is decorated with a little bit more than the bare minimum, but it's no longer overloaded and glaring with shiny reflections on every inch of the wall.

Charlie inches into the room, surprised that Harry is not there. Theo is, sipping on his customary cup of coffee and looking perfectly normal.

Too normal.

Easing down onto the larger settee, Charlie cautiously studies him. This feels like the calmness before the storm and he's not sure yet, that it isn't.

Theo smiles and turns his face for the expected kiss. "You're up early."

"Twins," Charlie mutters, because really, they are restless sleepers. He ought to have kicked them out of the room by now. George could cuddle with Quinn and Fred would be fine with Hadrian—since Wikhn was currently furious with both of them anyway.

Theo chuckles, reaching out and rubbing a hand through Charlie's tri-colored hair.

Charlie can't help leaning into the caress. He purrs when Theo kisses the corner of his mouth, before handing over his precious coffee cup.

They have a moment to themselves, there in the early morning, with no interruptions. It leaves them both somewhat breathless and smirking at each other with promises for more—later.

Privately, when they won't be interrupted and possibly as a reward to managing to survive another busy, crazy day. The good kind, that they're all slowly getting used to.

"Did you know…?" Charlie gestures to the room.

Theo snorts. "It's his instincts. He can't help it. I just made him think about something else. He still likes shiny things."

"Snitch?" Charlie says, half to himself. Perhaps that was why Harry had always been a good Seeker.

Theo chokes back a laugh. "No. Maybe. It's Harry. I'm just glad that he was able to enjoy himself for a little bit—and Fred did need to be out of the house. George was getting annoyed by his lack of actual work."

Charlie settles in, his expression softening. "They've always been like that," he admits. "George does things different and Fred tries to mimic it sometimes, but they are two different people. They make it work, because they are twins, but every once in awhile, they did need a break. Mum would set them to de-gnoming the garden."

"How is she, your mother?" Theo asks. "Did you want to see her for Christmas Eve?"

Charlie hesitates. "Maybe. I'm not sure yet."

"Let me know if you do—and if you want company," Theo offers.

It's a kind offer, so Charlie smiles. He might take him up on that. "Breakfast? Or are you surviving on coffee alone again? Quinn doesn't like it when you do that. It makes him cranky."

"He's adorable when he does that," Theo returns, innocently.

Charlie smothers a laugh. Adorable is not what he'd call a frustrated and mildly ticked off Healer, but Quinn and Theo have their own thing in their own way. "I'll make some toast or something." His hand lingers on Theo's shoulder, before he withdraws and retreats to the kitchen.

* * *

 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon. Random answer time! Y'all have good questions.**

 **Hiram's specialty is Rehabilitation for overworked/stressed/medicated/otherwise incapacitated pure elementals. He also works with placing creature children into dragel foster care. aka-helping Incubus children learn more about the Fire element-based Circle that will foster them. Or a dryad teenager learning to be nice to an earth-elemental Circle, etc. He likes to work with families and Circles overall, compared to Patrick and Surajini, who prefer to work with the individuals one-on-one.**

 **Blood purity has to do with pure dragel blood, with no mixed creature roots-aka, other creatures, other elements or nameless is fine, pure element all the way through ups it a bit and Merrow blood strengthens all lines, because of how unique it is. Half-blood is strong and okay, but cuts healing by fifty percent. Quarter-blood, by seventy-percent. Fae-blood is a fifty-fifty chance, depending on the dragel and better for Nameless types. Elven blood - nope. Vamps - hyped up on dragel blood, but natural vamps usually have to swear a blood pact before they can share, if they are Bonded into a Circle. Merrow blood is extremely potent, hence the nod that Fred doesn't want to remember when Harry had a few sips from their resident Merrow, because that was an adventure...in spite of the difference of blood purity though, it's largely the Healer class that is worried about it, because of its healing properties. Healers keep from mixed blood drinking/sharing and grafting (attempting to meld an element into a Nameless), so that the strength of it is doubly reflected in their healing magic.**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	22. Greed, Part VII

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 ** _Context : Still in Emerald Hollow and featuring a bit of a lull between the episode with the common war council and Theo's "fix"._**

* * *

GREED, VII

It's a very sleepy Harry that comes shuffling into the living room. He's wearing Charlie's dressing robe this time—successfully pilfering it before Fred can—and makes a beeline straight for Theo with a definite pout on his face.

Theo's coffee cup is up and floating away from danger in time to gather Harry straight to his arms. "Good morning, my adorable and wonderful treasure," Theo murmurs.

They exchange kisses—and it takes a few minutes before Harry is properly straddling him, hands braced on Theo's shoulders.

"Thank you for sharing your ornaments," Theo whispers, when Harry has opted to snuggle into his neck.

There's an angry puff of air in answer. "That was a dirty trick!" Harry grumbles, because he's had time to think about his precious ornaments all night, thank you very much. And now, he's finally figured out what Theo has done. "We can afford to buy new presents. More presents. Stuff." He falters, playing with the collar of Theo's dress shirt.

"Oh?" Theo's voice is deceptively light. "What did I tell you about paying attention to your cravings and instincts?"

"They told me to buy ornaments!"

"…All the ornaments in the stores?"

"I-it wasn't that much!" Harry stammers. And his face is red and still buried in Theo's neck because he can't look Theo in the eye. Yet. "Really!"

"There wasn't a single uncovered surface in this room yesterday," Theo counters.

"The ceiling!"

"Besides the ceiling," Theo deadpans. "And the floor, unless you had plans for that too."

Harry doesn't answer. Because he hadn't thought that far.

Theo twists to get a look at his face, but Harry's arms tighten accordingly. He squirms a moment later, when Theo pinches his thigh.

"The-o!"

"What?"

"Mean!" Harry fusses, because that's not entirely true, but he doesn't want to admit that Theo is right—not yet. He will, in a bit, but not yet.

"You did it entirely of your own accord."

Harry draws back, his pout firmly in place. "That's not fair—I-I want new ones to replace those!"

"No," Theo says, simply. He kisses the tip of Harry's nose.

"But I like them."

"You have enough."

"…I want more." Harry proclaims. And he does. They are so pretty, after all.

"The tree looks fine. The house looks great."

"…I can still fit more on the bottom."

Theo gives him a Look.

And it's a good one.

Harry whines, the sound almost musical. He knows that Theo is serious, knows better than to push that, but he did like those. They were so nice and shiny and they _matched._

"That's not fair!"

"Isn't it?" Theo's hands settle firmly on Harry's hips, holding him in place. "How about this—" he leans in close, whispering into Harry's ears.

The result leaves Harry even more red-faced and frozen on Theo's lap, as Charlie enters the room.

Carrying a large breakfast platter in hand, Charlie is supremely unperturbed at the apparent scene playing out before him. He only looks between Theo and Harry, then shrugs and sets the platter down on the table.

"Do I want to know?" He drawls, summoning the necessary dishes from the kitchen.

"No," Theo says, calmly. He smooths a hand over Harry's pert bottom. "I don't think you do."

For a minute, it looks like Harry might short-circuit. In the end, he only gives an agitated half-screech, before letting Theo tackle him down to the settee. His skinny arms lock tight around Theo's neck, pulling him down for the biting kisses that are swiftly gentling with each nip. A scant second later, he's purring contentedly.

Charlie is amused and entertained by the sight that follows. Theo's gentle dominance is something he will always crave. Coupled with Harry's genuine submission and their delightfully awkward understanding of each other—yes. Perfection.

Charlie toasts a cup of tea to their morning exercise. He'll have his turn later, so he's content to watch for the moment.

Breakfast and a show…

* * *

Fred groans from where he's draped over Hadrian's lap on the settee in Ethan's study. Neither his twin, nor his dominant Pareya, is paying him any attention.

They're all wrapping, stuffing and labeling the excess of Harry's ornament shopping spree, according to the hastily scribbled notes as to which ones go where.

Moving is a bit much and Fred knows better than to ask Quinn to heal _that_. It's way too embarrassing, so he'll moan and groan about it, while carefully printing the names from Harry's list onto the pretty, scripted gift tags.

Hadrian all but settled him there, so Fred knows he's not moving for a bit. It doesn't help that every so often, Hadrian reminds him that he's there—with the occasional scritch to his head, shoulder or side.

It's nice.

Nice enough that Fred can mostly ignore the smirks on Ethan and George's faces. They're wrapping in tandem on the floor in front of the settee and for every gift that George stacks safely away—Ethan rewards him with a warm kiss.

They're enjoying themselves.

And Quinn's off busy in the kitchen before the rest of the house wakes up.

Fred squeaks at the firm pat that makes him wriggle. "Hadrian-!" he half-whines.

"You're spacing out," Hadrian says, calmly. He peels one of the gift tags out and sticks it on the latest gift that George has stacked by the settee. They're making good progress and he can feel the contentment singing through their shared bonds.

Theo has worked things out and Charlie's privately amused. Harry's being Harry and that's fine, because it means everything is alright.

Because in the end, they're always alright.

Always.

* * *

 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon. Random answer time! Y'all have good questions.**

 **This has been a killer week. UGH. We shifted to 9 and 10 hr schedules from Wednesday (instead of the standard 8) and I've been about as exhausted as Quinn felt in the Pride snippet. Even if I can toggle my hours a bit, there's still a bunch of extra work the following day. I've also managed to sprain my right wrist and have been sitting with it well-wrapped since yesterday. OW. I hope y'all are having a better week, lol, because this is a bit too dramatic for me. I want calm and sane. anytime soon, would be nice.**

 **Next snippet due is Envy and it is equally random and silly as this one-it features more preggers!hormonal Harry and his slightly indulgent Bonded. Harry would like to point out that the following year, Theo did buy him several dozen ornament sets to decorate with. They did not let Fred charm them. Enjoy!**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	23. Envy, Part I

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 ** _Context : Still in Emerald Hollow and featuring a bit of a lull between the episode with the common war council and Theo's "fix"._**

* * *

ENVY I

It's not like he couldn't ask, but Harry has decided that if his instincts will make him act like an idiot, then he might as well embrace them.

That way, he'll be an instinctive idiot.

No, wait.

That's not what he wants.

But—ugh.

Considering that his Bonded are being far too indulgent for the moment—Harry's not sure just how far he can push them. Sure, he's given it a few good pokes, but so far, apart from Theo's occasional scold, everything is running rather smoothly.

That kind of worries him.

Harry scrubs a hand through his flat, greasy hair. No matter how much he's washed it lately, it won't return to its normal form and that's irritating.

Almost as irritating as watching Wikhn's perfect inky mop of hair and the Merrow's gorgeous long locks. Even Charlie's hair looks fabulous compared to his own.

Harry moans. He can't really complain about this, but he wants to. Desperately wants to. Except that it wouldn't really solve anything—and he's tried _all_ of their shampoos by now.

Slumping in defeat, Harry perches atop the toilet considering whether he wants to bother with the hassle of another shower—considering that the last one was only a few hours ago.

It's too much energy and he knows he can't really spare it—not to mention that most showers with company rarely manage to be useful, considering that they usually end with him in a more _horizontal_ position.

Eventually, he retreats downstairs to where his Bonded have gathered in the War Room, discussing their latest tactics for the training games coming up at the end of the Gheyos' current fighting season. It's technically a year and a half away, but they are eager and happy to be working together.

So they are planning from now.

Of course, it keeps them busy, so it's not like he minds. The less that he has to referee their occasional squabbles, the happier he is.

Lately, everything's been draining.

Harry silently notes each of his Bonded in turn, frowning when he realizes that Wikhn isn't actually present.

It takes another look before he realizes that yes, said dark fae is not present and he should've been up by now.

Harry slips out of the room and wanders over to the kitchen, following the slight pull he can feel for Wikhn's bond.

It's correct, because Wikhn is in the kitchen, sitting on the floor, leaning against Quinn's left leg.

Harry freezes, because this is a rare sight.

But it's clear that neither of his Bonded care whether he's watching them or not, as Wikhn's lazy pink eyes fix on him.

Harry swallows.

Quinn must be saying something, because Wikhn automatically lifts his head, mouth open. A raw vegetable core is caught in the corner of Wikhn's mouth.

Harry watches as Wikhn bites it in half, then holds the other end, crunching away on the usually inedible seeds and fibers.

Of course, Wikhn is fae and it means that he requires different nutrients and—oh! Harry perks up. No wonder his hair is so—silky.

Almost without realizing it, Harry is halfway across the kitchen and gently petting those soft dark strands.

It has the effect of Wikhn swallowing his mouthful of raw vegetable and Quinn's questioning poke in their shared mental link at the unexpected gestures.

"Uh—I just—" Harry blushes. He couldn't help it. He'd acted before he could help himself and really—Wik's hair is always a thing of beauty.

"Vegetable?" Wikhn offers, reaching up a hand to Quinn, who places a strip of crispy green pepper on his palm, which, in turn is offered to Harry.

Harry hesitates. He really does prefer fruit right now, but Wikhn's hair is just so _nice._ And maybe if he eats the pepper now, he can stand here and pet that silky soft mop a bit longer.

"Y-yeah." The strip of green is nice and crunchy, but tart and not quite sweet enough for his liking. Harry droops, but finishes the piece. Quinn doesn't like to waste food.

"You look a bit down," Wikhn observes, rousing himself from his comfortable seat on the floor. He stands and leans back enough to bump Quinn's shoulder, an affectionate gesture for allowing him to lounge about in his personal domain. This conversation is probably better held elsewhere, Wikhn muses.

"M'fine," Harry mumbles, but allows himself to be led from the kitchen and down the hall towards the visitor's sitting room. It's set off of the main hall and allows them to see guests without having to share their private spaces—seeing as the living room is a careful mixture of all of their personal preferences.

Wikhn leads him out onto the back porch, keeping a steady hand on the small of his back. A light touch, meant to be comforting—and it is.

Except for they've taken the outdoor furniture in and Harry doesn't want to sit on the steps. It must show on his face, because Wikhn laughs and bends down to nuzzle at his neck.

"Hammock, then?" He asks, but he's already summoning the item in question.

Harry watches him set it up, securing it through one of the S-hooks and then stretching the goldenrod fabric to one of the main columns on the porch.

A midday cuddle sounds wonderful.

Except…except for Wikhn's perfect hair dances gently in the warm breeze and when he pauses in his fiddling, long enough to hold a hand up to his forehead, Harry's annoyed.

That perfect, fluffy black hair.

UGH.

Harry pouts.

It doesn't have to make sense. He doesn't quite care if it's rational or not, but right now, all of that lovely hair is just making him feel more miserable than ever about his own greasy mop.

Stupid hormones!

"Harry?" Wikhn peers at him, worriedly.

The hammock is now hung and Harry feels his face warm all the way to the tips of his ears. The words come out before he can help them. "I want Fred!"

Wikhn blinks. That's the last thing he wants to hear in the present circumstance. Especially since he's currently not talking to the idiot redhead after the latest wave of pranks.

Harry can't look him in the eye.

"…Harry?"

"Fred! I want Fred!" Harry repeats, stubbornly. It doesn't matter that Fred is the last person that Wikhn will ever willingly seek out, right now, Harry just wants the opposite.

Someone who is not Wikhn.

Someone who doesn't have such perfect hair…

"I-I'll get him," Wikhn says, at last.

His tone is perfectly bland and Harry winces, inwardly as he watches Wikhn glide away, shoulders high. He feels miserable, because there were nicer ways to go about that—but it's not enough.

He's still irritated. Wikhn's hair is still perfect. And he is feeling worse by the minute.

He kind of does want Fred now and how long has Wikhn been gone anyway?

* * *

 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon. CH 101 is now at 8k.**

 **Y'all are sweet. Thank you so much for the lovely comments!**

 **I'm still a walking disaster. Last night, I tripped while going to the 'fridge to get milk for my mashed potato dinner. SIGH. Yes. I fell and caught my right pinky finger in the door handle of the fridge. This morning's highlight was coffee on the keyboard...of my workplace computer. On the bright side, did you know that thick paper towels and a bent paperclip are really good at cleaning a keyboard? Right. Me neither. Good to know. The keyboard was salvagable, btw. Just let me make it through this week-I swear...incidentally, no, I'm not as caffeinated as I normally am (tho maybe that's the actual problem here...?).**

 **Harry is blushing would like to point out that a good hair day is an amazing thing and that he wasn't thinking straight at that point. Wikhn is currently acting as Harry's pillow and rolling his eyes while saying "my hair, Harry? Of all things, MY HAIR?!" Enjoy!**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	24. Envy, Part II

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 ** _Context : Still in Emerald Hollow and featuring a bit of a lull between the episode with the common war council and Theo's "fix"._**

* * *

ENVY II

Fred cautiously pokes his head out onto the back porch. Quinn had told him that Harry was waiting for him outside and that's fairly rare in itself.

Not that he doesn't like being outdoors, because he does, but lately, he's spent most of his time in the shared lab with George, working on another round of their special joke products.

These are darker experiments—things meant to help in the upcoming conflict. Flash bombs. Spell-delayed shields and the sort. Useful things. But tricky things as well. It's been a tense sort of time, lately.

Preparing for the upcoming conflict and weathering the episodes of Harry's hormonal mood swings and the stress of the holiday season.

Fred hopes they'll tie things up before Christmas, because if they don't—he'll have to think of something to ease the tension. Considering how spectacularly terrible his last pranking attempt was—George had only half-helped—and Wikhn still isn't speaking to him because of it.

Not that the dark fae actually ever _did_ talk to him, but still. It was the principle of the thing.

Tugging at the wispy ends of his hair, Fred sighs. He needs a haircut again—soon. Quinn told him that Harry was waiting for him outside, but he couldn't catch a single glimpse of the moody brunet.

He spots Harry a second later—not in the brightly colored hammock already strung up. Wikhn—who should be there, if the hammock is there—is not. That, in itself, is a very bad sign.

The feeling of foreboding multiplies into a definite sense of dread, as Fred sees Harry half-sprawled out on the wooden floor—a few feet from the Wikhn-less hammock.

Harry's normally happy face is a mixture of annoyance, guilt and crankiness.

Fred groans, inwardly—because really, he is not the best one to deal with Harry in these kinds of moods. Ethan is better suited to it—Arielle, even the stupid Merrow!

Still, Quinn said that Harry wanted him and as he approaches, Fred mentally sifts through his usual chores and duties. He doesn't _think_ he's forgotten anything, but he could be wrong.

Could be.

"Harry?" Fred tries, tentatively.

The miserable face stares up at him and Harry's angry growl-whine is an entire novel of an explanation that Fred's not sure he can decipher.

Maybe it's safer to leave it undeciphered—at least, if that glimmer in Harry's eyes is to be believed. And Fred is quite inclined to believe it, thank you very much. That particular glimmer is a warning for an impending meltdown.

Fred's really not equipped for a meltdown—right now. Maybe later. Just not now.

He scratches his head. "R-right. Alright. Um—hammock? Let's—yeah." He contemplates going to Harry, but the glimmer vanishes and is replaced by a rebellious glare sent his way. Fred quickly recalculates and turns his steps in the right direction, right now, the hammock is the safer option.

And that's awkward too, because really, Fred isn't really used to hammocks and it's usually the Gheyos, namely Wikhn—the idiot fae—that is often lounging in one.

Never mind that it's the _way_ that the idiot fae lounges in the stupid things—because really, who is supposed to _look_ like _that_ when they're napping in a freaking hammock?!

Fred growls, half to himself and reluctantly settles into the hammock. It's too big and it swallows him almost at once.

Disgruntled, he struggles to sit up and when he's finally comfortably settled—he spots Harry.

Standing close enough to touch, arms crossed over his chest, Harry perks a brow. It's a perfectly calculated look—that belongs much more on Theo than Harry—but lately, Harry's mirrored Theo a lot more since the council mishap.

Fred swallows. He braces himself—barely—as Harry clambers into the hammock with him.

They awkwardly wriggle around until they are more or less comfortable.

With a huff, Harry pillows his head on Fred's chest, digging his chin a little harder into the softness beneath him. He's still annoyed and the look on Fred's face when he turned up wasn't really happy.

So now Harry's doubly annoyed. He sulks silently, mildly placated by the fact that he's a bit warm and Fred sort of has an arm around his waist.

Fred silently counts to one hundred forward and backward. This is apparently not going to be one of those times when Harry tells him what exactly is wrong.

He can't pinpoint it either, because they've all been so busy getting ready for the Christmas Eve events they'll have to attend.

Theo's decided on a divide and conquer strategy, so they'll be attending different events, at different times, with different Bonded. It'll present them as a united front—sort of.

Fred was trying to help with sorting out the finer details of who, what and where. Sort of. He was mostly procrastinating, but still.

Why did Harry ask for him anyway?

* * *

 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon.**

 **Successfully planned, hosted and wrapped up Mom's bday celebration for today. -yawn-. I have made it through in one piece, so now I can finally do some of my own things-aka. Post the next chapter. lol. Poor Fred! I'm just having way too much fun messing with him in this fic, but naturally, that does mean that Wikhn will get some screen time, since this is about his hair...**

 **Wikhn's fae side likes to sleep a lot. It also likes to sleep outside, hence the hammock. Harry has discovered that Wikhn will always let him cuddle, if they're in the hammock, so naturally, like a good submissive, he whole-heartedly takes advantage of it. Like a good Bonded, Wikhn makes a point of taking more naps than usual, every once in a while. :P**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	25. Envy, Part III

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 ** _Context : Still in Emerald Hollow and featuring a bit of a lull between the episode with the common war council and Theo's "fix"._**

* * *

ENVY III

"He's in a mood again," George observes, watching his twin pace the floor of the living room twice in the space of five minutes.

Fred only growls in answer. Because if that hasn't been one of the most awkward half-hours of his life, it certainly ranks well in the top ten!

He hadn't thought it was possible for a romantic cuddle to feel like a mental battlefield, but having a pouting, sulking Harry huddled in his arms was _not_ on his list of favorite things.

"What did he do?" George asks, curious.

"Nothing!" Fred snaps, and then looks irritated at himself for doing so. He throws an apologetic glance to his twin, even though he knows that George won't take it that way. They've always understood each other in that regard. "He just—we sat in the hammock."

For a long moment, George doesn't say anything.

"In the hammock. He didn't want it to rock. He didn't want to move and then he said something about taking a walk or wanting a snack-" and here, Fred trails off. Because he'd been so relieved, he hadn't listened to hear which it was.

There still silence though.

Fred knows better than to think George is actually speechless. His darling twin is most likely attempting to manfully swallow his delirious laughter.

"…But you hate hammocks." George says, a beat later. His voice is suspiciously bland.

"Exactly!"

"…I don't get it." And now, George just sounds confused.

Fred groans. Because he doesn't get it either. He doesn't know if there's anything _to_ 'get'.

"Callistair's offered to attend the 12th day Christmas Feast with our favorite person," Ethan hums, pretending not to notice their little conversation. He's gotten quite good at doing that lately—then again, he's had plenty of practice between his pregnant sisters and cousins. He simply knows when to panic—and when to remain calm.

Fred wonders if that will rub off on them in time. He kind of hopes it does. Otherwise they're all really screwed when the next kid comes around.

Probably in more ways than one.

"Callistair?" Fred repeats, thinking to try and match the question to something appropriate in his head. It doesn't work. Everything's still a muddled mess.

He has a vague recollection that Callistair is the Battle Mage in the Deveraine Circle—more Bhindi's than Bahn's—but in spite of his gruff demeanor, a rather civil sort. Fred doesn't mind him and they can get along well enough, if they have to.

But he still has no real idea what Ethan is asking. Whatever. It probably doesn't matter. He's sure someone will remind him about it later—right now, the main problem is Harry!

"Shall I put down a yes for that?" Ethan continues. He makes a few more scribbles on their floating chart. They've almost got the whole holiday season booked out. There's several necessary parties and clan functions that cannot be skipped and while they can avoid attending them en masse—largely due to Harry's pregnancy—respectable numbers are expected.

"Yes," George agrees. He's comfortably sprawled out on the floor—just within reach of Ethan's feet. He also knows his twin well enough and if Fred will go with Callistair, then he can attend a different party and they'll have knocked out two events at one go. "I'd rather go with Aracle and the others on their visit to the Palmiers."

"Got it," Ethan scribbles something else on the floating chart on his lap. He tallies something on his free hand, frowns and makes a few more scribbles. This was generally easier with all three of them actively attempting to put their heads together, but he knows that won't happen right now. Not while Fred is thinking himself in knots and George is trying to avoid mentally sharing the burden.

Sometimes they can't help when their twin-mind overlaps. They've been apart too long to worry about that and bonding into their Circle has only brought out this particular trait in each of them.

"Gred?" George prompts, when Fred continues to pace up and down the room, slipping deeper into his thoughts. "Don't think about it—"

Ethan tries not to smile. He loves it when they mismatch each other's names this way. It shows a depth of care and concern that allows them to avoid the too-sentimental triggers that might otherwise surface. It's simply them.

And in that note, he never uses them. Simply listens to hear them say it to each other. In this respect, he thinks they are a bit like the Gheyos—proud, but reluctantly cuddled and kissed into grumpy compliance.

"I don't get it!" Fred throws up his hands in dismay. He's thought it through several different ways and can only come up with the answer of nothing. "He was fine and then he wasn't and of all things it just—argh!"

Ethan hides a laugh. He doesn't dare suggest that the reason Fred is one of the most easily affected in Harry's present state, is likely because he is one of the fathers.

Very likely.

Sort of.

Maybe.

It could be one of the Gheyos. It would be most amusing if it was Wikhn, Ethan thinks. Very amusing. It would explain a lot of the current power 'dances' currently happening between those three in particular.

George nudges his foot.

Ethan leans to the side to catch his gaze. He knows his bond must be singing with absolute mirth, if the confusion in George's adorable, hazel eyes is anything to read by. Maybe he can cash in on that—George is so sweet, after all.

"What?"

"Stop it—whatever's that funny can't be good-" George mumbles, but his hand lingers on Ethan's foot—tracing further up his ankle and to the shimmering golden cuff normally hidden from sight.

Ethan's smile softens. He curls his toes to touch George's arm and returns his attention to the list. If he can correctly parcel out everyone, they'll be able to attend all the necessary functions this year—even if Harry doesn't feel up to joining them.

* * *

 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon.**

 **I mean to post this earlier, but RL has been a bear this week and I've been fighting a cold. On another hand I had some ideas sketched out for ch 101 and was working them in. Currently doing the snippet bit with our favorite broody hellhound. :P Hope y'all have had a good week!**

 **Wikhn wants to hold a Blood Title, but seeing as Hadrian currently holds one for the shadow element, he's in no hurry to claim it. Harry doesn't care about the titles.**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


	26. Envy, Part IV

**SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.**

* * *

 ** _Context : Still in Emerald Hollow and featuring a bit of a lull between the episode with the common war council and Theo's "fix"._**

* * *

ENVY IV

It's when Hadrian mentions that there are some interesting cage matches in The Pits that Harry knows there's going to be a problem. Normally, it'd be fine, but he's so on edge right now, everything seems grating.

His empathy bonds are tired and irritated, feeding off of his mixed emotions. Harry silently wrestles it back into some semblance of submission and chances a glance about the table.

He knows how his Gheyos will take this news. They'll be excited in every way possible. The thought of being able to let loose for awhile is more than tempting on so many levels. Harry likes his peace—likes that they don't have to fight anywhere near as much as when Voldemort existed—or even at all, if he doesn't wish. They've contributed enough to earn a few decades of peace, except that fate still loves him in its own twisted way.

The sigh threatening to surface is manfully swallowed down as Harry nurses his weak cup of milk tea. It's sort of settling his upset tummy.

Sort of.

Wikhn perks up, predictably. The five-year Gheyo fighting season is practically his life. Being able to train and participate in every single duel imaginable is an absolute dream.

It's far more fun to test his strength against whatever creature they've created now than to worry for his Bonded—or his own life—while in the midst of some furious battle.

Granted for the fighting season, there are no real opponents unless it is a training session. But all the creatures crafted for the season's purpose are elemental golems. It's still fun though and like most Gheyos, Wikhn does live purely for the fight.

Harry unhappily pokes at his dinner. He listens to all of the Gheyos excitedly chattering about the possible fights and outcomes. He's heard bits and pieces of their conversations before. Now, they are repeating and overlapping a bit—as they are all in the same room and therefore able to trade such delightful information in person.

Harry knows they're particularly excited because they want to try on their new armor—because of course, Theo would only buy them armor for Christmas!

And naturally, he'll give to them before the actual day, but still-! The thought of his gorgeous Wikhn in equally exquisite armor is not doing him any favors at all.

It is a lovely suit of armor, after all. It flatters his lithe form and even omits a full-faced shielding helmet in favor of letting Wikhn's luxurious locks flutter in the winds of battle. Wikhn, who has grown his lovely hair out from the usual, neat crop that he often has.

Harry groans—he can't help it. Why, of all times, must his mind torment him now? And why, in the name of all that is sane, must it be over those blasted silken locks?

"Harry?" Charlie's voice is low as Harry pops up from the dinner table, looking like an adorable thundercloud. He hadn't thought there was anything wrong, for Harry was often quiet during dinners—content to listen to all the random chatter of his Bonded's daily activities. It's equally rare for Harry to leave the table first.

Ethan's movements slow and still as concern radiates in his face. He places his utensils on his plate, catching Quinn's worried gaze as he does so. "Harry?"

Charlie speaks up before either healer or Pareya can speak. He can read that glint in Harry's eyes and it's better if he speaks. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" the word is snapped out a little harsher than intended. Harry's hands clench at his sides, because that really isn't what he wants to say, but it's irritating and all of a sudden, he doesn't want to be there. Not at the table, with those eyes on him and the hint of worry in the air. He wants to be out and away, somewhere that he can breathe.

He's fine. Really.

It's just his…hair.

"Excuse me." Harry mutters, turning away, before his eyes can betray him. Because Theo's sharp-eyes have fastened on him and Harry can feel the intensity behind them. He doesn't want to draw Theo's attention.

Yet.

He flees the dinner table to sulk some more in the hammock.

The very lonely, cold and empty hammock.

* * *

Hadrian takes them all to the Pits.

The Gheyos have obediently fallen into their respective ranks, decked out to the hilt in their respective armors.

It's a beautiful and lethal combination—the higher ranks sporting accents of gold and colors of blue, red and green, as a nod to their respective elements and talents.

Hadrian himself is well-presented, with his Elite shadow armor—all dark reds, blacks and purples—highlighting everyone of his best features.

Harry watches them prep from the second story balcony. He's curled up on his side on the balcony floor, peering out through the railing.

After his outburst at the dinner table, Theo had paid him a special visit to ask if there was anything wrong. There really isn't—it's just hair, after all, so Harry says no and barricades himself in the nursery room because he wants to be left alone.

Somehow, this new place has just felt more—real, lately. He loves the colors, the patterns and he can practically _feel_ the love dripping off of every single item within it. His Bonded certainly didn't spare any expense or effort in attending to his every whim—and their own—to build this nursery.

It's perfect.

In the way that it could only ever be perfect for them and in times like now, it makes his achy self heavy with guilt. He knows he's being a bit of a brat.

Is aware enough to know that he really shouldn't be pushing things like this, because maybe—just maybe—but then any doubts are soothed away by the sudden, pulsing rush of warmth through their shared Bonds.

Harry pillows his head on his arms, feeling torn between misery, self-pity and embarrassed joy. They know that he's not himself—and they're not forcing him to change or stay the same. They're giving him the right amount of space and smothering at the same time.

Not to mention all the chocolate.

And the blood.

And the cuddles.

And the sex.

It's fabulous.

Harry sighs. Perhaps he should apologize—there was no real reason to interrupt dinner with one of his fleeting dramatics.

Honestly, he hopes this baby is healthy and happy—but he's a little worried about the personality. He can't pinpoint exactly yet, which Bondeds have had a more intimate hand in things, but he has a feeling this little baby will be a drama queen.

Or king.

A groan wells up in his throat.

Boy or girl—this baby will certainly have a flair for the dramatic, given his equally ridiculous mood swings and cravings.

That has to be it.

Harry nods, almost able to banish those pesky thoughts when he hears a clatter of armor and the loud clamor of voices.

Arielle-!

They're getting ready and now, can't help but watch them. Pride and contentment happily twined together inside of him. For one moment, he's appreciative. Because they're fierce and fabulous—and his.

And the moment is broken in a heartbeat, because all of a sudden, he can only stare at how perfect their hair is.

Everyone's hair.

Not just Wikhn's.

But _everyone's._

And if that doesn't just make him feel terrible, he doesn't know what does.

* * *

 **Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon.**

 **Chapter 106 is at 13k words right now. I'm working on it a bit tonight, but wanted to post a chapter of this Christmas Fic, as thanks for all the incredible support and awesomeness that you guys have given me this year. You're the best readers and fans an author could have. Thank you. Merry Christmas to you and yours from my corner of the world!**

 **This picks right back up where I left it last year, I just didn't have edits in, because I tend to have a lot of typos when I'm typing too fast...Anyway, Enjoy the Read! ^_^**

 **THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion**


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